


The Wish List and the Rag Tree

by Lunarrua



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, But it'll be kinda funny smut, Canon references if you look hard, Evil management, Excessive Drinking, Fluff, Friendship, Fun, Grief, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Manipulation, Maybe a teeny bit of smut, Misunderstandings, Mostly pining., Not canon though, Slow Burn Romance, Stressed Harry, Tomlinson Family, charity work, narry friendship, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 75,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5026312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarrua/pseuds/Lunarrua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Be careful what you wish for.</p><p>College student Louis is behind the charity fundraising gig that propelled singer-songwriter Harry into stratospheric fame. But now Louis wishes he hadn’t fallen so hard for the clumsy idiot – especially since it’s clear Harry isn’t looking for someone like him. Meanwhile, Liam is a record company scout who wishes his crush wasn’t so obvious. Zayn wishes people would appreciate his artistic vision. Harry wishes he could remember how to breath. Niall wishes his friends would keep their clothes on around him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Murdered Orcas

**Author's Note:**

> With apologies to the members of One Direction, their families, friends and professional colleagues. While their names, likenesses, and (occasionally) words have been requisitioned, this is a work of fiction and is not meant to imply any correlation to reality where everybody is lovely and uncomplicated and not at all like this story (probably). :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Louis sees Harry for the first time. He falls hard. Harry just falls over.**.

From the back of the room, Louis surveyed all he had created and saw that is was … a bit rubbish, actually. He sighed and elbowed his way through the crowded venue to the bar at the back, where Stan immediately reached to get him a beer – handing it over the heads of everyone waiting to get served. Louis smirked to himself at the yells of protest, but bumped almost immediately into Sophia who was holding a clipboard and tapping her foot.

“Louis. Is this really the time to start drinking?” 

“Sophia, my dear, if ever there was a time to start drinking, I would think it is now.”

They both turned to the darkened stage, where shadowy figures were running back and forth – as they had done ever since the amps had cut out 10 minutes into the first act. Louis was still shuddering from the memory of the squealing feedback. He resigned himself to the noise inevitability featuring in future nightmares, most suitably alongside images of orcas being slowly murdered. 

“So, it looks like that sound-check might have come in handy after all then, eh?” Sophia mused in a measured tone.

Louis swallowed a mouthful of beer. He hadn’t quite managed to get to the venue at the time Sophia’s careful timetable had outlined.

“Well, we live and learn Sophia. I mean, Stan said his guys would leave everything set up for all the acts”. He figured his future nightmares would also include that tangle of wires, plugs and switches that he had battled with less than an hour ago. Battled with and lost to, it turned out. Ah well, it had been a noble fight. 

“So how’d the door go anyway?”

Sophia’s stern face melted into a smile.“Great Lou! We made our target – even after we take out the promo costs, we’ll have a very nice cheque to hand over to the charity after all this.”

Louis smiled broadly back at her. They had worked hard at this – persuading Stan to get his boss to let them host an Open Mic night as a fundraiser for the children’s charity where they first met as volunteers. They may have missed a few deadlines at college over the last week or two, but it would be worth it to be able to finally finish the refurb of the kids’ playroom. 

A yelp drew their attention back to the stage, where the huge canvas backdrop – carefully painted by their friend Zayn - gently slipped loose and slid sadly downwards, enveloping a stray musician on its way. Sophia raised an eyebrow at Louis.

“Do you think that might have happened because of the – how should I put it – atmospheric conditions in here?” she asked.

Louis had to admit the levels of heat and humidity were reaching Amazonian swamp levels. It was possible he had knocked off the air-con at some point in his struggles with the technology.  
Sophia didn’t give an answer – her face suddenly lit up with expression Louis knew could only mean his troubles were solved. Sophia had a noted talent for (and an enjoyment of) problem-solving – and Louis prided himself on giving people space to develop their talents.

“Nick!” she called joyfully, swooping over to the tall man who was sauntering across the floor, looking confusedly at the stage where music had yet to re-emerge.

Oh no, not Nick Grimshaw, Louis groaned internally. Nick knew everyone and was cool in any situation. Sophia would come up with a plan with Nick, and everyone would clap him on the back for saving the day and Nick and his stupid big quiff and stupid teeth would be immortalised for ever. They’d probably even paint a mural of Nick on the wall of the new playroom.

Oh yeah, the playroom … the kids. Louis decided he should just get out of the way. Whatever it took to save the night really, that was all that mattered. He congratulated himself on his magnanimity – turning back to face the stage, where something was happening to attract the attention of the crowd. 

The guy who had been swaddled in Zayn’s artwork seemed to have become entangled in it and was now hopping about trying to free himself, to the delight of an audience with nothing else to look at. The chap ended up hovering in a strange contortion, one leg horizontally in the air behind him while the rest of his body stretched in the opposite direction – and then, in a slow motion dive he didn’t seem to be able to stop, collapsed into a horrendous face-plant onto the stage.

The crowd whooped merrily and burst into spontaneous applause. Louis sniggered along – until the guy bounced back up onto his feet, sweeping his long, dark hair back from his face to reveal a sheepish grin.

And maybe it was just that someone bumped into Louis then, but for a moment his lungs seemed to forget how to work, and his heart overcompensated with a thunderous thump, and there was nothing in the room except that beautiful face with its dimpled smile and pair of shining green eyes.


	2. Wish List No. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” Nick leaned in towards him, conspiratorially, “tell us. What are you looking for in a romantic partner, then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK. So I couldn't wait. Here is Chapter 2.

Harry had schlepped around so many Open Mic Nights he had lost count, but never one quite like this. He had just escaped a vicious attack from a random piece of art, and now he was being pulled back onstage with frantic whispers in his ear to “just go with it” by some tall guy with a quiff.

“So, Harry,” Nick grinned devilishly at him, “Tell us about yourself, kid. Who is Harry Styles, and what propels you to seek fame and fortune in the fickle music industry?”

Nick could see Sophia giving him the thumbs up from the floor, and then a sign for him to keep talking. They had managed to get one mic working so now the plan was to stall for as long as possible. That meant Nick would dispense his charm and wit in engaging banter with the music acts, while behind him, a crack team of music engineers (i.e. Louis – whenever Sophia could get her hands on him) would sneak about and try to spark life back into the equipment.

The wide-eyed look of fright on Harry’s face though, along his white-knuckled grip on his guitar, betrayed the fact that no one had filled him in on the plan.

“Well, um … I’m not really … um …”

Wow, Nick thought, if he takes this long to finish a sentence they really don’t need to worry about stalling – they’re going to be here all night at this rate.

“I really just like music and performing. I’m not exactly thinking about … you know … umm … fame or -”

“Ummhmmm,” Nick nodded, cutting him off to chuckles from the audience. The wait to get started had given everyone plenty of time to get to the bar, and there was a decidedly giddy atmosphere in the hot venue.

“So, you’re a good looking chap – are you in a relationship perchance? I think the world deserves to know – right, people?” There were a few enthusiastic “Yeahs!” from the crowd.

“Um,” Harry pulled his hair back distractedly, “well, not really. I mean - no one I could persuade to stick around, anyway.”

The audience collectively sighed an “Aw…”. Harry felt his face reddening. There was only one spotlight focussed on the stage, and it seemed to be beaming the white heat of a thousand suns directly onto his face. Was this some kind of interrogation? What had he done to deserve this? He just wanted to sing his songs.

“Oh no, Harry. We can’t have this! What have you been doing wrong? You must not be picking the right ones, that’s all!”

Suddenly Nick clapped his hands excitedly, his eyes gleaming. “We can help! Let’s do this! Let’s fix you up!” The audience cheered.

“So,” Nick leaned in towards him, conspiratorially, “tell us. What are you looking for in a romantic partner, then?”

“Um…” Harry swallowed, “just, um, you know, someone who is …. nice? I guess?”

“Oh, come on Harry! That’s it? That’s your full set of criteria? No wonder you haven’t found The One yet! You need to get more specific, man! Put some thought into it! I mean…” Nick gestured at the audience – “between all of us, we’re bound to know someone we could set you up with!”

The crowd got very excited at this, clapping wildly. A lonely voice rose from the back of the room “I’m nice!” bringing the house into a roar of laughter.

Nick waved them back down into relative quietness. “OK everyone, let’s get this out of him. Right, Harry, start talking … Romance… What are we looking for here?”

Harry was unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Really? Was he really going to have to do this? 

“Nick,” He tried. “I don’t have, like, a list. I’ve always just thought that, I dunno, I’d know it when it happened? I guess I always thought that those romantic movies must be right – that one day, out of nowhere, when I was least expecting it…”

“Eyes across a crowded room… yeah, yeah, we get it.” Nick interjected.

“Just look over here then, Harry!” another shout rose from the side of the room.

The audience hooted. 

“But, you’ve got to have some kind of list! I mean, everyone has secretly got some kind of list, right?” Nick got the confirmation he was looking for from his tittering audience.

“Ok, so we have “nice” - which is something. Not everyone is looking for “nice”. Not always at the top of my own priority list - I admit it! I’m a fool for those bad boys and their nasty ways!”

Nick paused to let the laughter dissipate. “So let’s work up from the basics then. Where do we start? Female, the odds would suggest? Or?”

Harry found himself shrugging – “Not that important.”

Nick’s eyes gleamed. Harry bit his lip. He hadn’t ever been anything but open about it with his own friends and family but there was something about outing himself on a stage in front of hundreds of people that was a little disconcerting, to say the least.

“OK, then.” Nick continued, “Unfortunately, that broadens our search rather than narrowing things down, so you’re going to have to give us a bit more. Brunette? Blond? Ginger? Not a ginge, surely Harry? – “

“Hey!” an offended voice called out from the stage wings.

Nick ignored it. “What else – outdoorsy? Arty? Curvy or skinny? Tall or short? Sporty or posh? Spicey or –“

This was ridiculous. In desperation Harry started talking -“OK Nick. I give up. Here it is. Here’s my list. Um ...” Harry randomly picked characteristics out of his thin air, anything he could think of, wildly casting about for anything at all – whatever it took to make Nick shut up and let him sing. “OK, so let’s say – blond, 5’9-ish, blue eyes, easy-going, great sense of humour.”

“Great!” Nick encouraged, “Good start. What else?”

Harry bit his lip. What else, indeed… “OK. A good driver – that’s important. Don’t want to die if we’re going to go places together.”

“Makes sense,” Nick nodded. “Now what about those quirky things we like about someone that maybe don’t make sense?”

Harry wracked his brain. “Um, I quite like an unusual accent. Oh, and smiley. I do like a positive person. Must love kids, and … um … golf! Oh, and someone who likes karaoke. And um, I admire a good selfie-taker. And… let’s see, well if they don’t feel the need to wear underwear all the time, let’s just say, I’ll be understanding - “

Suddenly a loud voice rang up from the venue floor - “Oh holy shite - it’s me!” 

The glare of the lights prevented Harry from seeing who had shouted, but the crowd went wild – screaming and laughing. 

Nick jumped down from the stage, bringing the mike along with him. “What? What? Do we have a candidate?! Get over here – let us see you!”

The spotlight wandered from the stage before settling on, what Harry had to admit was, a very cute guy with bleached blond hair, who was laughing so hard he was doubled over on himself. When he finally righted himself, pink-cheeked and breathless, Nick zoomed over to him, sticking the mike under his still giggling mouth.

“So you reckon you fit the criteria, then? So tell us – what’s your name?”

“I’m Niall”. 

Even from those two words, Harry caught the thick Irish brogue. Hmmm. Funny that. And he had blue eyes. And was definitely smiley.

“So then Niall. The most important question first. Are you currently wearing any underwear?”

The crowd, already hysterical, reached new shrieking heights when Niall just raised one eyebrow at Nick, before collapsing again into laughter, holding onto his own knees.

“Come back to me Niall,” Nick clasped his elbow. “Tell us about yourself. How do you spend your days?”

“I’m in college, but I used to be a pizza delivery driver at weekends.”

“So do you play golf, Niall?”

“Playing off a 10 handicap at the moment”.

Harry’s heart thudded. This was all a bit weird. But the chap was going to burst an artery if he didn’t stop laughing so hard.

“What about the karaoke - do you indulge?”

“I might be known to do a bit of Oasis, when called upon!”

“And kids? Any opinions?”

Niall flipped out his phone – a baby’s face beaming out from the home screen – “My nephew – he a dote. He’s the best of them obviously, but of course I like kids. Gas craic, they are!”

Harry was now looking into the wings for a hidden camera. This had to be a set-up, right? Why hadn’t anyone let him in on it? What the hell was going on?

Nick was running back up the steps from floor to the stage, sinking dramatically onto one knee in front of Harry, sticking the roving mike under his nose. This was all getting a bit too Jeremy Kyle for Harry’s liking.

“Well, Harry! This is a most unexpected turn of events, but it looks like – I mean – there is a very strong possibility that the love of your life is just over there, a mere few feet away! What do you say, Harry? What do you have to say about this?”

Harry blinked stupidly. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, and what the joke was, and whether he was the butt of it or not. Nick’s face came into focus in front of him again – smiling and nodding encouragingly.

Harry fish-mouthed for a moment, before saying the only words he could come up with in the circumstances – “I guess - Niall – can I take you out for a drink sometime?”


	3. How To Make A Good First Impression by Louis Tomlinson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **So something happened at the gig and Louis doesn't really want to think about it. Can't he just be left to drink his tea in peace?**.  
>   
> 

_(Louis’ place.The morning after the gig ….)_

  


Tea made everything better.

Louis had been staring at a ceiling for the last 30 minutes, but in that time the ceiling had changed from the one over his bed to the one over the sofa in the living room, so it felt like progress, right? He was out of bed and there was a mug of tea in his hand, propped on his stomach, so again – well done to him.

It’s the little things, he told himself.

“It’s the little things,” he then told Stan, who was sitting on the other end of the sofa, looking exasperated.

 “Louis! Forget the little things and concentrate on this one big thing. This is like the X-factor auditions three years ago! Remember? When you said you wouldn’t bother going because your favourite cardigan shrank in the wash that morning, and it was a sign the day was jinxed?”

Louis shrugged. It was his lucky cardigan. Of course it was a sign. And Stan was being quite unreasonably animated for a chap who didn’t get home until 4 am. OK, it may have been true that the reason Stan didn’t get home until 4 am was because he stayed late to help Sophia sort out the aftermath of the fundraiser, while all Louis did was to lean against the wall. (It seemed like a reasonable project at the time - that wall was swaying dangerously. Or Louis might have been doing the swaying. Either way, he did his best with the situation.)

Nevertheless, Louis felt quite offended now that Stan was getting in the way of his much-valued ceiling-staring time. That just wasn’t being a good friend.

“That gig was crazy good,” Stan continued, “They were some of the best unsigned acts around – and you managed to persuade them all to come to play. I mean, once it got going, there was electricity in the air. It was so amazing! This could be the beginning of something wild! This could be the Cavern before the Beatles got discovered. This could be the Haycienda at the birth of house music. This could be… um… I can’t think of another example at the moment… but the point is Louis, we have to do this again!”

“But Stan,” Louis began. How could he explain – it was a total fluke it all worked out. Usually, nothing he did worked out. The night had escaped from being a total disaster by the flukiest of flukey margins. There was no way he could pull it off again. And he hadn’t even invited that Harry guy everyone loved  – he was some tag-along of his latest find, Ed Sheeran.

“But nothing Lou! Did you know there was a record company rep there?”

Louis swivelled his eyes towards Stan questioningly.

“Yeah!”, Stan nodded enthusiastically. “He gave me his card. Liam Painful or something. He was there for that Harry guy who got set up on the blind date. He said he would definitely be back, if we could pull in quality acts again. He said he’s always scouting for the next big thing. Like, if we get a reputation that the bar is THE place for new music in this city – like, wow! How cool would that be!”

Ah. That Harry guy. Why did he keep popping into Louis’ mind? Louis’ face burned as memories from the night before appeared in his mind. Memories he had been concentrating so hard on not thinking about.

As Louis worked away last night, helping Stan’s guys with fuse-changing and replugging wires into their correct sockets, he had kept an eye on how things were unfolding on stage – the crazy interview, the crowd’s excitement, but eventually, under an arc of golden lighting and with full amplification, Harry had sung. And it had been amazing. His voice was warm and strong, hitting the notes with certainty, bringing a distracted crowd to heel, leaving them hanging for more.

The next few acts didn’t really register with Louis, his mind occupied with the image of Harry’s long body swaying and twisting around the microphone stand, the sheen of the stagelights on his smooth skin, the way the Harry’s voice had made goosebumps rise on Louis’ arms. And Louis felt a swell of gratitude to the guy – he had brought the gig back on track and the place was buzzing.

It was just after Louis had decided to move from beer to vodka cocktails in celebration and was sauntering back from the Gents through the swing door, humming contentedly, when he suddenly found himself smashing into a mass of lithe muscle so solid it caused him to bounce backwards and land on his bum.

He momentarily congratulated himself on the generous padding of said bum, which, as well as gaining him many compliments over the years, now had saved him from any serious injury, before peering upwards at the tall figure looming over him.

“Whoops!”

“Oh, hey!”

A strong hand was clasping around his forearm, lifting him to his feet as if he weighed nothing at all. But Louis may not have been at his most stable just then, and he found himself going with the momentum of the pulling hand until he was crashing hard into a solid chest. He placed his hands on guy’s shoulders to balance, and felt two steadying hands lightly resting around his waist, and abruptly, inexplicably, Louis was enveloped in a sweeping sensation of warmth and safety and familiarity.

“I am so, so sorry! Are you OK? Wow, I guess they should have some kind of traffic-flow system for this doorway,” a voice was saying to him.

Louis gazed into the forest-green eyes that were staring into his, and found his tongue had become glued to the roof of his mouth. Harry. Here. With his hands on him.

Harry was even more beautiful this close, and Louis was suddenly angry with Nick. He had just matched Harry up with a randomer in the crowd with reckless abandon. It had been risky and irresponsible, Louis decided  – hadn’t Nick ever heard of stranger danger?  This poor guy, with these beautiful, innocent eyes, and that flawless skin, and cherubic curls – Louis really wanted to do something to rescue him from the situation. And now – here was his chance. He needed to speak up and help him. For god’s sake – who else would?!

“Be careful!”

Harry blinked at Louis’ words and dropped him from his grip as though he had been burned.

“Oh, um, I will. Like, sorry again dude. Um.. a bit clumsy, me… um, yeah.”

He sloped away - Louis watching, frowning. He had a feeling that hadn’t fully explained himself there.

Oh well! He’d just have to find sweet, innocent Harry in the bar afterwards, and have a little talk with him. And probably Harry would be totally grateful to him for his concern. And he’d probably want Louis to take him home since Louis would be the only person he could trust in this cruel, cold world. And Louis would protect him, ‘cos that’s just the kind of guy Louis is, and Harry would really want to _show_ him how grateful he was, and well… Louis smiled to himself. This might just be a very good night, indeed.

 

By the time Louis returned to the bar, the place was going wild, the crowd surging along to Tori Kelly – a girl he had found rocking out a burger bar with her guitar at 2 am one night. He swept his eyes over the heaving mass of bodies looking for Harry, when he heard someone shouting his name. Stan was gesturing at him from the end of the bar – four ridiculous looking cocktails in his hands.

“Louis! Do me a favour?!” Stan yelled as Louis approached, “Drop these over for me, yeah? I’m slammed!” He nodded towards a table in a nearby corner.

Four figures crowded around the tall table Stan had pointed at, and although there were all facing away and in a huddle of conversation, Louis recognised one lanky-limbed body instantly. He hesitated, but Stan had already turned back to the clamoring crowd at the bar so Louis set his shoulders determinedly and edged his way through the crowd, concentrating deeply on keeping the glasses level in his hands. He may have jettisoned some of the sparklers, umbrellas and fruit skewers along the way, but there was only so much humiliation a person should be expected to accept in one evening. 

When he reached the table, Nick was bopping Niall’s nose repeatedly, shouting at him “Tell the truth! Tell the truth!” To which, Niall just kept laughing and dodging Nick’s finger, until he flung himself behind Harry, to escape the annoyance.

“I do prefer the women, it’s true, you have me there.” Niall laughed, batting away Nick’s continued assault. Then he jumped in front of Louis, grinning broadly at the array of drinks in front of him. “Mind you – a few more of these pink drinks and who knows, boys, who knows? Let’s just say, I could be open to persuasion.” 

“Oh yeah, guys this is Louis,” Nick piped up then, seeming to finally notice him hovering. He grabbed the drinks out of Louis’ hands and passed them around. “I’d tell you everyone’s names Louis, but judging by your usual state of inebriation at this stage of an evening out, you won’t remember, so maybe just do a little wave at everyone instead.”

Nick wiggled his fingers at him, in a gesture that looked more like a “goodbye” than anything.

“We’ve met,” Harry said, smiling at Louis, who was in the midst of giving Nick his most lethal death-glare, “sort of.” He smirked slightly, dimples appearing in his face and he stretched his hand out, “I’m Harry. That’s Niall, Liam, and Nick you obviously know.” He took a sip from his cocktail then, his eyes fixed intently on Louis, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked at the straw.

And wow, Louis now discovered what being electrocuted felt like - a flash of white heat surged through his body and holding Harry’s gaze felt like the bravest thing he had ever done. His heart thudded so loudly in his ears, it even drowned out the thumping music in the club. 

And this was all very, very odd because Louis wasn’t exactly shy or new to meeting cute boys in night clubs. From his first kiss at age fifteen with Andy Smith at the school musical after-party to that quicky hand-job with some over-muscled gym bunny last weekend in a dark corner of a club on the other side of town, Louis pretty much knew how to play the game. He knew just the way to narrow his eyes and half-smile to convey a flirty confidence that drew guys to him, and how to squeeze an arm and pat a bum to send them on their way again with no hang ups or complications.

This part of his life was usually the easy, uncomplicated part. So why was he unable to move or speak just then? 

It was only when a giddy Niall knocked him sideways, that the spell broke and Louis looked away. His gaze dropped to the floor in horror as he remembered he had failed to uphold the usual social convention of hand shaking and responding when spoken to. Oh God, Harry must think he was the biggest weirdo on the planet.

“I believe there is such a thing as fate.” Nick was announcing importantly, dragging Niall back over to him and then taking Harry’s elbow too - pulling them together to stand side-by-side. Nick peered earnestly into their faces - “There is something BIG going on here tonight, I can sense it. Can’t you Liam?”

Liam shrugged, more interested in chewing on a piece of pineapple from his cocktail. Harry cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Louis, but was pulled back by Nick again who was continuing to pontificate. “I really think you two should really try to make this work, guys. I think fate has brought us together tonight. I think this is all meant to happen. I feel in it my bones! You can’t hide from things like this!”

“Now, boys,” Nick pushed them both around so they were facing the heaving bodies on the main dancefloor, “go, let the music guide you, dance like no one’s watching. Lose yourselves in the moment, you own it. All that stuff.” He pushed them both away from him towards the dancing.

And the cocktail Niall knocked back had clearly done its job because he grabbed Harry’s hand and surged into the crowd, still laughing and calling over the music to Harry – “C’mon, lover – show me how you shake that thang!” Harry smiled bashfully back over his shoulder at Liam and Nick, his eyes flickering to the floor instead of looking at Louis, and within a second they had both been swallowed up into the crush of dancers.

Louis watched them leave, feeling something inside of him growing very small and cold. It was the same feeling he had got when he had watched his step-dad pack his bags and walk out the door years ago. Then he shook his head vigorously. No, that’s daft. Why would that come to mind now? 

Nick was clasping his hands over his heart, fondly watching Niall and Harry’s heads bopping up occasionally through the crowd, bigger grins on their faces each time they appeared.

“Fate, I tell you,” he said to no one in particular. “I can always sense its presence. Sometimes happiness like theirs is just meant to be.”

And that’s when it clicked for Louis - why he hadn’t been able to speak. And why that memory of his step-father had appeared in his mind just then. He remembered he had a fate too - and it was part of why he tended to drink too much and have random no-ties sex with people he never had to see again - happiness like theirs just wasn’t on the cards for him. He just knew it, deep inside. And he remembered deciding a long time ago, that if he couldn’t be happy, then he could at least try to make sure other people around him were.

He watched as Harry did some ridiculous pirouettes in front of a still-laughing Niall, and then the way Harry tripped over, and how Niall grabbed him and steadied him onto his feet again. He watched the way Harry’s arm looped over Niall’s shoulder as he leaned close to say something in Niall’s ear.

And then Louis decided to stop watching and to leave them to it.

 

 

Safely on his couch, the morning after, Louis still couldn’t suppress the feeling of that small, cold thing inside him. He puffed out an angry breath. Why had he been completely silenced in Harry’s presence? He had hated that, hated feeling so stupid and dumb. Hated the way Nick had put him down, and the way it drove him back to the bar for the rest of the night. Hated the way his head pounded now.

He sighed. This is why he preferred ceilings to thinking. Ceilings or, alternatively, drinking – either really were equally effective for stopping unwanted thinking.

He looked at Stan at the other end of the couch and gave him his most serious tone of voice. “Stan. I am unlikely to ever be interested in repeating the experience of last night. However, I am open to receiving further compliments on my success. Perhaps we should discuss this further over a convivial beer or two?”

Stan rolled his eyes. He learned long ago there was no point saying anything. No one ever won an argument against Louis Tomlinson.

Sometimes however, it was possible to get him to agree to things when he had a few under his belt. Stan reached for his shoes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. I'm sorry. I couldn't bring myself to do "Oops Hi". Is that awful? I had actually written "Oops Hi" but then I just cringed. Haven't there just been enough "Oops Hi"s moments written by now? Is a "Whoops Hey" sufficiently progressive? Am I wrong about this? Have I broken all the rules of this fandom? 
> 
> (I'll change it back if anyone really wants me to!)


	4. Kissing the Wrong Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up with a boy in his bed, but with a different boy on his mind.

_Harry’s place- the morning after the gig._

 

Harry’s consciousness grudgingly acknowledged that morning had arrived, and that a scaly animal with sharp claws was burrowing its way from one side of his skull to the next, right through whatever remained of his brain.  
  
His phone has been buzzing with notifications for hours now, but he hadn’t managed to move his arm the necessary three inches over to grasp it to see what the fuss was about. There were other sounds. He was vaguely aware of his doorbell ringing, and then a gentle tapping on his bedroom door, and of a quiet “ahem” coming from somewhere close to his bed.  
  
No, hang on. What?!  
  
It took everything he had, but he managed to open one eye and swivel it around until he took in the slight of an apologetic-looking Liam peering down at him, extending a take-out paper cup towards him.  
  
  
God. He hated Liam. The man was an ass. Giving him a key was not one of Harry’s wisest ideas. He had just been so excited with the notion that a record label had “assigned” someone to him – he would have promised them his first born child at that meeting if they had asked.  
  
But slowly, the scent of the freshly roasted coffee permeated through the deadening fog of his hangover.  
  
Oh sweet Lord – he loved Liam. Never let anyone say a word against this doe-eyed, beautiful, beautiful man.  
  
He gingerly raised himself into a sitting position, sipping on the coffee as though worshipping a precious elixir.  
  
“Wow. Well, last night was a blast,” he eventually managed to croak out.  
  
Liam beamed. “Harry! Someone videoed last night and … it’s gone viral! It made it to Reddit and then Buzzfeed picked it up. You’ve made it to the number six trend on YouTube in just 12 hours.   
Everyone’s tweeting the moment “Harry Finds His True Love”. The label’s ecstatic - just the buzz you need to get your name known. It’s all just … great!”  
  
His true love? A face swam to the front of his mind then. A pretty face, with high cheekbones and strikingly blue eyes. The face of the guy who had rudely rejected his apologies last night then blanked him afterwards. True love was not on Harry’s cards.  
  
Although, this coffee was coming close. This coffee was the most beautiful and special thing he had ever encountered in his whole existence. This coffee had him at hello.  
  
“Um, Harry?”  
  
“Yes, Liam?”  
  
“You know you’ve got the studio session today? Like, that’s why I’m here? And um – we were meant to be in the car 15 minutes ago?”  
  
Harry began considering just how much cash might be required to bribe Liam to rearrange the whole thing, when a low and pathetic sound emanated from under the duvet beside him.  
  
Liam’s face blanched and he actually jumped back a foot in fright, his widened eyes jumping from the odd phenomenon of the moaning duvet to Harry’s face and back again.  
  
Oh.  
  
Yeah.  
  
That happened.  
  
Liam and Harry watched as, slowly, and in a manner that reminded Harry of a baby turtle digging its way out from its sand-nest, Niall flapped his way out from under the bedding and into the light. Judging by his crumpled brow and screwed-up eyes, Niall and the light were a long way from forming a loving relationship, and Harry almost felt enough sympathy for him to offer him a sip of his coffee.  
  
Only almost, though.  
  
“Right!” Liam was backing away, his cheeks flaming. “Sorry for … um, barging in. I’ll just wait –“  
  
His voice trailed off into a choking noise, as he watched Niall’s manoeuvrings slowly drag the duvet away from Harry’s body, revealing, in gradual succession, Harry’s tanned, naked chest, then the curve of his stomach, the laurel leaf tattoos over his hips and then lower – “Ouch” Liam collided with the doorframe on his rush to escape. “I’ll just wait out here Harry, and let the driver know you’re coming- oh! I mean, that you’re just getting off – UP! I mean, getting up and, um… I’ll be out here”.  
  
Harry and Niall looked at the empty space of the doorway for a moment, the sound of Liam’s continued babbling fading away as he scurried down the corridor, then they turned to face each other, catching each other’s eyes, and bursting into laughter.  
  
“If I’d known you were going to sneak in here after I fell asleep, I would have at least kept my pants on.” Harry said. (Although he really wasn’t.) “Liam may very well need some therapy to deal with the stress of that.”  
  
Niall scratched his head, tousling his hair into even wilder peaks, and chuckled hoarsely. “That sofa of yours is hell to sleep on, dude,” he complained.  
  
They glanced at each other again and this time their eyes held for a few lingering moments, a glimmer of amusement appearing in both sets as the previous night’s events bubbled into their consciousness - the gig, the drinks, the offer of a place to crash, and then, back in the dark and quiet of Harry’s apartment, that quiet moment when it seemed worthwhile to test the strange sense of fate that had hung over the whole evening.  
  
“You can stop smirking.” Harry told Niall, slapping a pillow into his face. “You were there too.”  
  
Niall’s smirk remained in place and when he spoke, his voice held a sing-song tone - “Harry Styles kissed me.”  
  
“Yeah, well you kissed back, mate.”  
  
Last night, there, in the middle of Harry’s apartment living room, both of them slightly swaying from drink and the madness of the night, they had turned and stared at each other, an unspoken question shared in their eyes. And Harry’s hand had found its way around Niall’s back, pulling him in close. Then Harry’s other hand somehow found its way to touch Niall’s face, Niall’s blushing skin hot under his fingertips. Then, Harry’s lips were pressing gently onto Niall’s, and Harry could feel him curling them into a smile and he almost pulled away, but then Niall grasped the front of Harry’s shirt, pulling him in closer, and he kissed back.  
  
And in that moment, it felt good – like something familiar and comfortable. It felt nice. And - Harry had thought - nice was good, wasn’t it? Nothing at all wrong with nice.  
Their bodies moved closer, and although Harry didn’t like to admit it to himself, there was a certain practised skill to his moves - his kisses moving softly down along Niall’s neck, his hands drifting gently downwards, lightly stroking along Niall’s ribs, gently squeezing his hips, then reaching even lower, running down along the front of Niall’s jeans.  
  
But after just the lightest of touches, Niall sprang back like he had been electrocuted. They both froze like rabbits in headlights until Niall’s facial expression morphed from shock to an open-mouthed, braying laughter.  
  
“Hahahah! Well that’s the answer to that question then!”  
  
Harry felt a friendly punch against his shoulder, and then he was being cuffed into a surprisingly strong head-lock and pulled into the direction of the kitchen as Niall’s laughter continued to ring out.  
  
“I’m starving. What’s the chances of a cheese-toasty, you horny devil? I think we could do with the soakage.”  
  
Then Niall had released Harry and grinned cheekily into his face. “I know you weren’t feeling it either bro, were you?”  
Harry had to shrug back, a sheepish grimace his only response, before leading the way into the kitchen to see what he could find to feed this strangely chirpy and, it seemed, resolutely straight, young man.

  


 

It could have been awkward as hell this morning, Harry considered. But despite everything, despite the fact that the two of them were here, under-dressed and in bed together, a failed sexual adventure and thumping heads their only common experience, Harry had to admit he felt quite happy to be waking up beside Niall.  
  
He was also happy when he managed to get into the waiting car within ten minutes and before Liam’s blood pressure increased to fatal levels. He, furthermore, was happy to be heading off to a recording session for his first EP with a company who made clear he would be their new-launch priority over the next few weeks.  
  
All in all, Harry could define himself as being almost completely happy in his life this morning. If only he could just stop thinking about that sparky-eyed boy from last night, and how it had felt for those brief few seconds he had been inside Harry’s arms.  



	5. Being Co-operative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's management want reassurances he will be co-operative. A short update before a hot and heavy Larry encounter.

At the studio, Harry had an unexpected visitor.

“I really didn’t know all that was going to happen, Simon. You know? Nick just kind of sprung it on me…”

Harry bit his lip nervously. Simon’s stern expression remained in place throughout the full 5 minutes it took him to view the You Tube clip on Liam’s phone, and it stayed in place now as Simon’s dark eyes bored into him while he tried to explain.

“And umm …. I really had nothing to do with it going on You Tube or any of that… But umm, Liam thought it might actually work out to be a good thing – that it might raise my profile and …. uh ….” Harry looked to where Liam was now shrinking into the corner of the room, shaking his head silently, his brown eyes silently begging Harry to leave any mention of his name out of it.

“Harry.” Simon interrupted, bringing his fingertips into a temple in front of his mouth. “You do understand that when this company signs a new artist, we do so on the understanding that we’ll be making a considerable investment in every aspect of that artist’s career development.”

Harry nodded silently. He was in trouble it seemed. He wasn’t used to being in trouble. He hadn’t ever been sent to the Principal’s office even once when he was at school. But if he had been, he reckoned it would have felt very much like this.

“We have expertise in a range of areas that you may not realise are just as important as the music the artist may produce.” (Harry tried to ignore the slight sneer on Simon’s face at the word “music.”)  
“The moment an artist is signed, a team of people go to work on developing a careful plan for launching that artist – media communications, styling, budgeting, social media, collaborations, appearances and travel planning to name a few – do you get the idea, Harry?” 

Harry nodded again, swallowing down hard.

“And we rely very much on the full co-operation of the artist in ensuring that plan is executed with military precision. Is that clear?”

Harry kept nodding. Well, he decided, if he was about to lose his contract, at least he could make a living as one of those bobble-head toys that sit on car dashboards. Maybe next time he could do for an Indian-style side-to-side head waggle – shake it up a bit. Yeah. Head nodding would be his new thing.

“So when events occur that vary from that plan – well, that presents a challenge for all concerned.”

Simon’s eyes closed, and a deep frown marked his forehead. Harry almost felt guilty at causing such pain to the man – until he remembered that nothing that happened had in any way been his fault. Simon sighed and picked up a pen, balancing it across his index finger, watching it hover precariously, on the brink of falling at any second. The symbolism was not lost on Harry.

“So the question I am faced with today is: is this deviation -” Simon nodded at Liam’s phone “- from the plan, something we can work with, or does it indicate a worrying lack of co-operative spirit from the artist in question?”

Harry felt he needed to speak now, or it would all slip away forever.

“I’m really very co-operative, Simon. Seriously. I really want to, like, help with whatever plan you guys have worked out. I just want to make music – and anything that gets me to a place where I can just do that, you know, I’m in. I’ll do anything…”

Simon raised an eyebrow. The first glimmer of a smile playing on his lips.

“Anything, you say? Well, that’s good to hear Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe the stuff going around about Sophiam breakup! Thought that was so solid. I may now have to rewrite a major strand of this story. Poo! Hope they are both doing ok...


	6. It Is What It Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Louis gets persuaded to set up a second fundraising gig. Then he gets a call from his sister.**

… 4 weeks later ….

“Hey there, Princess. There’s my girl!”

Louis knelt beside the nurse, who was refilling Susie’s feeding syringe while the little girl, strapped into her chair, swivelled her head around to lock her eyes onto Louis’. 

“How is my little darling today, then? Hey? Having lunch?”

The nurse chuckled. “Oh, this little Princess is just fine, Louis. Loving her new sensory room.”

Louis smiled, reaching a finger to stroke the little girl’s cheek.

“You are, sweetie? You like the pretty lights?”

Susie blinked once at him and Louis grinned back at her. They had their own code. It might have looked like Susie had no ability to communicate, but Louis knew better. Just because someone didn’t use words didn’t mean they couldn’’t get across what they needed to say.

“Do you want me to take over for a while, Ellie?” he asked the nurse, knowing she usually had a line of kids waiting for her attention.

Ellie patted Louis’ knee gratefully. 

“Would you, pet? She just needs another 15 mil.s really, and she’s done. It’s taking a bit longer than usual today. You can take her back to the playroom after.”

Louis grinned happily when Ellie left him to it. He tried not to have favourites, but really he felt that Susie was his kind of person. Her severe disability may have left her with a curved spine and uncontrollable muscles, but it didn’t stop her getting across her getting across her scathing sense of humour.

“Well, kiddo. What trouble have you been causing since last week, then?” he asked her. She coughed slightly against the drops of feed he had squirted into her mouth, and he realised his mistake, lifting her up to pat her back and help her clear her airways. Susie rolled her eyes skywards at him.

“Sorry, sorry! Let’s eat first then, and have a chat afterwards. I’m paying attention – promise.”

After Louis had finished helping Susie with her lunch, he settled her into a giant bean-bag in the new sensory room that the fundraising gig had helped to pay for. He snuggled beside her for a while, the two of them watching the lighting system change between rainbow hues, gentle ocean sounds lapping from the speakers.

“Not bad, kid,” he commented. “Maybe we could go for a punk-rock theme next time though, what do you think? Bit of Ramones on the decks, a few Sex Pistols tracks to liven things up in here? We could get new hairstyles – I’d look good with a Mohican, I reckon. We should really go for it – safety pins earrings, doc martins, green hair. You on?”

He heard a giggle at the doorway and saw Eillie, the nurse, standing there with Sophia. They two of them watching Louis and Susie fondly.

“I can totally see you working it as a punk-rocker, Louis,” Sophie laughed, moving into the room, sitting at their feet and opening a bottle of bubbles to blow around. Susie kicked her feet excitedly. 

After watching the bubbles for a while, blowing them towards Susie’’s hands so she could swat them, Ellie tentatively started to speak. “You know, we love to make a new garden here too, Lou? I was talking to Matron, and she said it’s the next thing on the Board’s development plans. It would be so great for the kids, wouldn’t it? To build something just to suit them – raised beds that they can reach from wheelchairs, lots of highly scented flowers for the kids with sensory impairment, maybe a wind-chime corner, a sandbox… ”

Louis said nothing for a while, then laid his head against Susie’s arm. “What’s going on here Susie-kins, is the classic Ellie guilt-trip. Watch out for it in your future life. You give in once, and it’s a card she’ll play again and again.”

“Oh Louis, she’s not guilt-tripping you!” Sophia sighed. “We just thought…” She trailed off.

“I do care, you know that Soph.” Louis said eventually. “I just don’t want to promise something we can’t deliver. It’s our final year in college. I need to start looking for a real job. And anyway – a garden? That’’s serious funding we’re talking for that kind of project. If we get everyone’s hopes up and then let them down…”

“I don’t think we’d let anyone down,” Sophia said quietly. ““Stan reckons these gigs could be a real income generator. His boss has already agreed the percentage - it’s really generous, he’s into giving back to the community. All we need is your smooth-talking to get the talent in. No one knows the local music scene like you do, Louis. And the acts trust you. They’ll perform because they know you aren’t out to screw them over. And if we get the right acts, we’ll keep a crowd like the first night – a once-a-month highlight in city’s live-music scene that everyone wants to be seen at.  
“And you know you don’t need to worry about your exams, Louis. You always do well, even though no one ever sees you studying.”

Louis chuckled. “And now, Susie, you are witnessing the “Flattery will get you everywhere” approach. Also devastatingly effective. Remember this day –– you are getting a master-class in manipulation.”

Sophia smiled softly, avoiding Louis’ eyes.

He knew she had won. She was was right. They both knew he wouldn’t say no. But he wouldn’t not say no straight away. He had a reputation to uphold after all.

…

Louis was walking home from his volunteering stint when his phone rang. A hot rush of guilt spilled in his chest when he saw who was calling – he hadn’t spoken to his sister in a couple of weeks. He shouldn’t have left it so long. What was wrong with him?

“Hey Lottie, how’s it going?”

“Hi Louis.”

Louis swallowed at her low tone. Yeah. He really shouldn’t have left it so long.

“Sorry Lottie. It’s been crazy lately. I got behind on some stuff at college and I had to … well. Anyway. Is everything ok?”

He heard Lottie take a small breath, and he stopped walking. There was garden wall nearby, he went to sit on it, his heart sinking as he waited for her to speak, waiting for the inevitable news.  
“I think Mum might be getting bad again, Lou. I’m not sure, but …”

He grimaced, kicking angrily at the wall underneath him with his heel.

“Well,” he reasoned, trying to convince himself as much as his younger sister, “it’s coming up to the anniversary. She always gets a bit low around then.”

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s probably just that.” 

The fact that Lottie was agreeing with him, rather than kicking his ass for not calling, made Louis even more anxious.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’ll go round tomorrow, ok?”

He heard the instant relief in Lottie’s voice. “Could you Louis? You know best how to manage her when she’s like this.”

“No, of course. It’s no problem.”

“Sorry.” Lottie whispered.

Louis cursed himself. He was such a useless brother and son. Lottie shouldn’t be apologising to him. She was still in school. She shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of stuff.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have called before. I let myself get … distracted.”

“Yeah,” Lottie laughed a sad little laugh, “Distracted. Also known as - living your own life. Which you should be doing, Louis. Don’’t feel bad, it’s not your fault. It’s none of our fault. It’s just …… what it is.”

Louis unconsciously ran his fingertips over the very same words tattooed over his collar bones. It had become a family motto of sorts, over the years. Something they had each sighed to each other when all the crying and ranting about the unfairness of things had run out. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lottie. Try not to worry. We’ll sort it out. We always do.”

“OK, Louis. Thanks. Love you. Bye”

“Love you, sis.”

Louis stayed sitting on the wall for a few minutes after hanging up. He glanced over his shoulder at the house behind him – it had a neat little garden, a small square of cropped grass inside tidy box hedges and a border of blousey, colourful pansies. A bit unimaginative, maybe, but all so proper and well-kept. 

Louis couldn’t help imagining the family that lived here – a neat and proper little family inside their neat and proper little house. The kind of people who always paid their bills on time and put out the bins on the right day and helped out with church fetes and school bake sales. The Dad probably helped to coach at his kids’ footie club one evening a week, and the Mum would check that their allocated list of chores had been done before pocket money was paid out. And she’d bake chocolate cakes to celebrate good exam results and school musical performances. She would probably be the type to dole out fluttering kisses and warm hugs with every scraped knee or bruise. She probably would never forget birthdays, or stay in bed all day spilling silent tears, or turn away from her kids’ pale faces like she couldn’t bear to look at them.

Louis shook himself back to reality. Lottie had been right. There was no point trying to wish reality away. It is what it is.


	7. Politeness in Coffee Queues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Harry and Liam run into Zayn when getting coffee. Somebody gets nervous.**

“Are you sure about this plan for the gig tonight Harry? I mean, you don’t have to.”

Harry raised a quizzical eyebrow at Liam. 

Liam blushed and looked guiltily away from Harry’s eyes. “Well, OK. Maybe you kinda have to. For now. But … well, sorry, I guess.”

Liam and Harry were on a coffee run from the recording session and standing in line at the least efficient Starbuck’s counter in the country. No one seemed to have moved in 15 minutes. Harry didn’t mind –he needed a break from the studio. He had finished laying down the vocals two weeks ago, and since he seemed to have become increasingly redundant to the making of his own record. There were now three different producer guys arguing over the mangled remains of his songs, each with a vision to produce something with chart-topping potential. There were now so many synths, samples and overlays involved that Harry could barely recognise the original songs anymore.

In fact the only people who did want to speak to him were from the marketing division. And they had a plan, due to commence tonight back at the Dive venue, a plan that would put Harry back on the viral video trends lists and capture the imagination of the nation. Apparently.

Harry felt a tightening around his ribcage when he thought of it. To be honest, he wasn’t fully comfortable with the plan, and he definitely wasn’t comfortable about going back to the Dive where pretty, blue-eyed boys tended to be rudely dismissive of him. (And one day soon he would stop thinking about that, wouldn’t he? Because no other ten-second interaction in all of human history could have ever been thought about as much as Harry had thought about helping Louis up from the floor, and the way he had felt under his hands, and the way his blue eyes had seared into Harry’s). But he had promised Simon weeks ago that he would be co-operative. So maybe he should just do that. It would be the nice thing to do, right? After all, these record company guys were working so hard for him.

He looked over at Liam found he was still looking guilty. He reached over and wrapped an arm around Liam’s shoulder. “Hey,” Harry tried to sound reassuring, “what’s the issue? Management wants me to hang around with a beautiful, talented girl for a few weeks? Wear some nice new clothes for a few photographs? Seriously – if I’m going to start complaining about that, then I deserve to be shot Liam.”

Now, it was Liam’s turn to raise a quizzical eyebrow. He was actually much better at it. Liam’s eyebrow game put his to shame, damn it! 

Harry lowered both eyebrows and thought back over the conversation with the team earlier.

“It’s not like they’re forcing me into the closet or anything.” Harry reasoned – as much to himself, as to Liam. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. And I’m not hiding anything. If I happen to meet someone I really want to date – boy or a girl – then there’s nothing they can do about it, is there?”

Liam didn’t answer. Harry frowned. “There isn’t, is there, Liam?”

Liam had ducked his head low to his chest and seemed to be whispering to himself. Harry leaned closer to him to hear what he was saying. To Harry’s confusion, it was something along the lines of “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

What?

“Oh, hey man!”

Harry turned around at the friendly greeting, finding himself face to face with a darkly attractive guy in ripped jeans and a leather jacket – slim and edgy and angular. Well, this was a nice surprise. He didn’t recognise him, but people had been coming up to him since the video went viral. Most had checked out his demos afterwards and had nice things to say about his music. “Um… hi!” Harry smiled back.

It was only when the guy turned to him with a surprised expression on his face, that Harry realised he had actually been addressing Liam, who was now trembling slightly under Harry’s arm. Harry tried to give him a reassuring squeeze, but in response Liam let out a tiny whimper and blushed furiously.

Quickly though, Liam gathered himself together, and turned to face the guy - a friendly, measured smile carefully drawn on his face.

“Oh hello! Zayn! Didn’t see you there! How are you?”

Zayn grinned back and Harry felt his heart melt just a little. Zayn’s face transformed when he smiled. His sultry, austere beauty morphed into an eye-crinkly, endearing, goofiness. It was very sweet. Harry found himself grinning happily for no reason at all.

“Yeah, I’m good man” Zayn was saying. “You?”

Liam was nodding furiously. “Good, good. Yes, thanks, I’m well. All is well. So, You’re good then? Yes?”

“Yeah, yeah. Been busy. Haven’t seen you since the gig man, that night was so sick! On for a repeat tonight, if I can make it. Need some coffee to get me there though.”

“Ha ha! Yes, us too!”

Harry found his head switching back and forth between them, like he was watching a tennis match.

“So,” Zayn drawled, nodding in Harry’s direction, “this your boy? That set-up thing with the Irish guy didn’t work out, then?”

“My boy?” Liam went rigid, hurriedly shrugging out from under Harry’s arm. “Oh no, nothing like that! No, no.”

“Oh no, no.” Harry chipped in, sensing from Liam’s reaction that an urgent clarification was required right then. He shoved his hands into his pockets. ““Nothing like that.”

“Harry’s our latest signing at Syco. We’re just getting coffee. It’s just a work thing. We’re colleagues, really, more than anything.”

Harry frowned, feeling slightly rejected. “But Liam – we’re friends too though, aren’t we?”

A slightly panicked look crossed Liam’s face, as his eyes flitted from Zayn to Harry, clearly torn.

“Yes,” he eventually conceded, unable to ignore Harry’s hurt puppy-dog expression, “We are. We are friendly colleagues.”

Harry gave a brief nod in satisfaction, smiling to himself. Zayn, meanwhile, had been peering over their shoulders into the glass display cabinet, not seeming all that interested in Liam’s considered definition of his relationship with Harry.

“Hey, this is probably totally uncool guys, but this line is so long – could you order something for me when you’re up?”

“Yes!” Liam practically leapt out of his skin in his rush to acquiesce to Zayn’s request. “Yes, no problem. What would you like?”

Harry tried to hide his smirk. Liam was so anxious to please. It would be so easy to exploit that trait. He resolved to make a conscious effort never take advantage of it. Unless it was for very serious reasons, and on very limited occasions. Like when he got a craving for a frozen yoghurt fix. That kind of thing.

After a further 10 minute delay, and more awkward conversational efforts from Liam, they got their coffees and some scones and headed out into the sunshine. Zayn had told Harry he had enjoyed his set and they were chatting amicably about various artists they liked – Harry had to admit he wasn’t hugely familiar with a lot of the people Zayn seemed to be a fan of, but they found common ground over a few of the unsigned artists who had appeared onstage the night of the gig.

As they trudged comfortably together back in the direction of the studio, Harry found out that Zayn was a graphic design student with a passion for comic book art and illustration, and that he was the artist responsible for the canvas that had so nearly caused him injury.

“No way! That was your work? That was an amazing piece.”

Zayn glowered darkly, and Harry was struck once again by the way the guy’s emotions seemed to utterly transform his face. Now he looked intense and moodily unapproachable. How did he do that? Harry was jealous. He decided to practice in front of a mirror later. That and single eyebrow elevation exercises.

“It was a good piece. Now it’s a wreck, covered in footprints and beer stains,” Zayn complained.

“Sorry, I suppose some of those footprints are mine,” Harry apologised.

“I don’t blame you,” Zayn grumbled, ““it’s the last time I do a favour for Louis Tomlinson though. He should come with a disaster warning.”

Harry spluttered around a mouthful of too-hot coffee.

“Louis?” he choked, as Liam, patted his back concernedly. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” Zayn continued to grumble, “he is a waste of space. The guy is a flake. He doesn’t give a shit about anything. I don’t even know why I used to be friends with him.”

Harry wasn’t sure why he felt such a crushing sense of disappointment then. OK, so Louis had been a bit rude and uncommunicative, and clearly uninterested in him, but he usually had good gut instincts about people and there was something about Louis … Harry had just thought that Louis would be someone worth getting to know.

Liam spoke up – for the first time since he had handed Zayn his coffee with a tremulous “Here Zayn, this is for you.” as though he had sailed the high seas to import the coffee beans himself. “Louis knows music though. That was a great line-up last time. Can’t wait to see who he’s found for tonight. He should be doing my job, probably.”

Harry laughed at Liam’s sudden woeful expression, and was about to throw a reassuring arm around him again when he thought better of it and nudged a friendly shoulder into him instead.

“You could always sub-contract, Liam. Give him a percentage of your signing bonus!”

Harry chuckled merrily to himself, ignoring the flash of inspiration that crossed Liam’s face – because Harry just had a flash of inspiration himself.

“Hey Zayn – you know – I need cover art for my album when it’s done. Do you think you might be interested? I haven’t even really thought about it yet – and I really did love that backdrop piece. You have anything that might work?”

Liam paled slightly. “Uh Harry…”

Zayn immediately cheered up – “Really, man? Wow – that would be so sick! I mean – I could send you some stuff, see if you like anything.” He glanced in Liam’s direction. “I understand the label probably has its processes and stuff, but you are welcome to take a look. What’s your album title?”

“Angels and Other Broken Things.” Harry replied. Then he bit his lip. “I think. What do you reckon? It’s not corny is it? It’s just from one of the lyrics. I’m not sure about it…”

Zayn had closed his eye to consider. Then a gentle smile drifted across his face and he nodded. “Yeah. That’s sweet. I might have something that could work with that theme.”

Harry couldn’t hold himself back from throwing his arms around Zayn’s narrow shoulders. OK, so maybe he felt a little tender about his still gestating album and he’d take any encouragement he could get at the moment. 

By then, they had reached the door of the studio and were saying their goodbyes. Liam, apparently, felt it necessary to replicate Harry’s embrace – but the degree of hesitation and hetero back-slapping he employed around the whole thing left everyone feeling awkward and rushing to bring things to a close.

Zayn told them he might see them at the Dive later, maybe, and Harry thought it wise not to comment on Liam’s shaky sigh as he lingered by the doorway to watch Zayn lope away from them. Then Harry himself sighed, and stepped back into the murky darkness of the studio to engage again in his polite battle with the producers.


	8. Shenanigans in the Bat Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Finally, it happens. And it's hot.**

Sound checks were quite tiresome really. Sophia may have managed to convince Louis of their necessity but he resolved to outsource this particular duty in future. The three beers he had inveigled out of Stan hadn’t brought the expected degree of hilarity – maybe more were required. He’d get working on that as soon as he got this done.

“One... Two... One... Two...Check Check”

He shielded his eyes against the spotlight, calling out to the chap Stan had roped in to help ensure no repeat of the last gig’s failings - “That ok, Mike?”

Hehe – the sound guy was called Mike. Good one.

“Go again Louis”, Mike called up.

“One. Two. One. One. Two. Two.” Gawd this was boring. A flash of inspiration hit Louis, and he pulled the microphone from the stand, cradling it in his palm before kicking into his favourite Sia song –  
_“One Two Three One Two Three - Drink!_  
_One Two Three One Two Three - Drink!_  
_One Two Three One Two Three_  
_Throw them back, till I lose count_  
_I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier_  
_I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist, like it doesn’t exist_  
_I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night-“_

Wow – actually that song had a lot of high notes. Louis choked to a stop, coughing slightly.

“Well, that ok, Mike?”

A loud whistle and single hand clap reverberated through the empty venue.

“Thanks, Mike!” Louis grinned, bowing deeply.

A lanky figure emerged from the darkness, long dark curls brushing his shoulders. This wasn’t Mike. No, this was the walking epitome of sex on legs. Louis straightened up when the familiar face appeared below him, and Louis marvelled that one face could be both girlishly pretty and handsomely masculine at the same time. As Harry gazed up at him from the floor, Louis felt a dizzy sensation like he was balancing on a tightrope, not standing on a scruffy stage in a back-room bar. 

Harry was dressed differently from the last time Louis had seen him. Now, instead of the plain t-shirt over skinny jeans he had worn at the last gig, Harry was dressed in a light silky shirt, buttons opened low on his chest, a fedora on his head, heeled boots on his feet. He looked like a seventies rock star. 

He isn’t interested, remember, Louis then told himself, so just don’t. 

“Wow, that was… that was amazing, man!” Harry beamed at him, and that smile … that smile would put sunshine itself to shame.

Louis bit his lip, heat rushing to his skin, like - every inch of his skin... he might having an allergic reaction or something. He carefully replaced the microphone into the stand, switched it off, and walked away to the side of the stage, jumping lightly down to the floor at a safe distance away from Harry. No lights here. He felt better in the dark.

“Really, though,” Harry pursued, moving closer to him, “you’re performing later, right?”

“Eh, no, mate,” Louis scratched at his hair embarrassedly, “thanks, but, not my thing.”

“You’re kidding! No! I mean, you have something – there’s so much character to your voice, it conveys a lot of feeling, you know?”

“Uh yeah – the feelings I can do. The actual notes? Maybe, not so much.”

“Hey … that’s completely not true -”

“So you’re back then.” Louis jumped in, shutting him up. “Didn’t think you’d have time for us again. Thought you had hit the big time – social media sensation and all that.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry shrugged, “that has all been a bit weird to be honest. Think I just prefer keeping it simple - standing up and singing in a bar-room somewhere. Hoping someone might remember my name.”

Louis looked at him for a moment, searching for a clue on whether this was some kind of faux-modesty pose, or whether this guy really had no clue that he was born with the level of star-quality that entire galaxies could envy.

“Harry, isn’t it?” he asked, unable to keep the smirk from his face.

Harry nodded back.

“Yeah, sorry about that mate, getting people to remember your name isn’t going to be that much of a project for you. Think you might want to set yourself a more challenging goal.”

Louis started to walk away, ignoring the surprised expression that had popped onto Harry’s face. What – was it that shocking that he could pay a compliment every now and then? Actually, Louis could be quite charming if he put his mind to it.

Like, now, for instance.

He couldn’t stop himself. He turned, half-way across the empty dance-floor, continuing to walk backwards, hands in his jacket pockets, smiling his most winning smile.

“So, gig’s not for another two hours. You gonna have a drink with me or what, superstar?”

 

…

 

“You are really quite cute, you know.”

Louis blushed at the compliment. He and Harry had somehow ended up in the room that Stan called “The Office”, and everyone else called “The Batcave”” – both misnomers as in reality the space was nothing more than a wonkily partitioned-off corner of the basement store-room. The cramped area contained a stained green couch, (stained with what, Louis never allowed himself to think about) a desk and chair, a bashed filing cabinet that held only slightly more files than opened bottles of various spirits, an ancient computer, and a random collection of lost coats and umbrellas strung across a rickety rail.

They had been there for the last hour, swigging in turns from a “borrowed” bottle of vodka, Harry twirling on the office chair while Louis sprawled (elegantly, he would have argued) on the dodgy sofa. And it had been amazing – Louis suddenly found himself freed of the muteness he had previously experienced around Harry, and they talked with the ease of people who had known each other forever. Harry asked Louis about organising the gig and laughed brightly at all of Louis’ stories about finding each of the singers (most of which held little resemblance to reality, but hey, Louis wouldn’’t want a little thing like the truth get in the way of a good story.)

They liked the same music but disagreed about the best way to mix a mojito. Harry definitely had the more impressive recall of Rugrats episodes but when he admitted he had abandoned X-factor for Strictly last year, Louis made no effort to hide his disgust. Louis was impressed by the strength of Harry’s belief in the restorative powers of frozen yoghurt, while Harry giggled at Louis’’ impassioned argument for Janice’s status as the most under-valued minor character in Friends.  
As time went on however, Louis was beginning to believe his earlier suspicions of an allergy were true – the longer they talked, the harder his heart was pounding, the more flushed his skin felt. It was either time to find an epi-pen or do something about the serious eye-fucking Harry had been subjecting him to for the last 30 minutes.

Louis staggered up from the couch, taking the vodka bottle with him, and crossed the room to hover over Harry where he was leaning back in the rickety swivel-chair.

“Stop being all…” Louis fumbled for words, swaying on his feet, drawing tiny circles in the air in front of Harry’s face with both his index fingers. “…eyesie”.

A small smirk edged at Harry’s lips. “Eyesie?”

“Yeah,” Louis tried to draw himself into an intimidating pose, but ended up tipping forward and grabbing onto Harry to steady himself. “Eyesie and staring and ……” 

His voice faded and he found himself getting lost in those eyes that held his so hungrily.

“Maybe I’ve got something worth staring at.” Harry replied, his voice low and breathy.

“Huh!” Louis tried to gather some measure of haughtiness, as he took another swig from the vodka bottle. There was a reason, he vague recalled, why this wasn’t supposed to be happening. If only he could remember it. 

“You know,” Harry glanced down briefly, before capturing Louis eyes in a look that seared into Louis’ heart with its heat and honesty, “You weren’t exactly nice to me. After I knocked you over. Even though I said I was sorry.”

“You did.” Louis acknowledged, nodding, unable to even blink, “You did say sorry.”

“But you didn’t say it was ok.”

“I didn’t?”

“Nope. You were a bit cranky. And then, after, you were quiet. So.”

“So?”

“So, I’m glad you’re not. Being so quiet this time.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. I like this. Getting to know you. I like you.”

They had moved closer throughout the exchange, so close. Louis could feel Harry’s body-heat radiating against him, his breath against his face. He couldn’t take it – everything was too hot. He wanted to rip his clothes off. He wanted to rip his skin off. He almost pulled away, when Harry reached for the back of his neck and gently pulled him closer, his thumb stroking along Louis’ jaw. There was a pause – Harry’’s lips millimetres away from his, his eyes flickering questioningly at him, seeking permission.

Louis lunged forward, letting the bottle clunk to the floor, and crashed his lips hard into Harry’s, raking his fingers into Harry’s soft hair, grasping it in tight fists, eliciting a groan from Harry that reverberated into Louis’’ mouth and down his spine. Louis’ knees gave out and he ground down hard into Harry’s lap, his legs straddling Harry’s muscular thighs, his crotch involuntarily thrusting forward. The chair beneath them creaked dangerously, and Harry’s hands gripped bruises into his hips, then moved to squeeze his ass. Louis gasped for oxygen, pulling away for just a second before returning to dip his tongue into Harry’s hot, wet mouth while Harry’s hands kneaded hard into him, slipping lower to grasp the back of Louis’ thighs. 

Suddenly Harry stood, lifting Louis with him. Louis wrapped his legs tightly around Harry’s waist, letting him carry him across the room, feeling dizzy and weightless in his arms. Then he was being lowered, slowly laid back onto the couch, Harry bending with him, their bodies pressed hard against each other. 

Louis released Harry, pushing him just far enough away so that he could reach for the button of his jeans. He could see the bulge of Harry’s hard dick straining against its containment and Louis couldn’t wait, he had to touch, he had lost all control. His fingers were shaking as he fumbled with Harry’s shirt, pulling it up high to get better access to his waistband, but then he got distracted Harry’s smooth, tanned skin and Louis mouthed at his soft belly, so hot against his lips. He edged his kisses upwards, along Harry’s chest, sucking and lapping as he went, flicking his tongue against Harry’s nipples, hearing him whimper and gasp in response. 

Louis unbuttoned Harry’s shirt all the way, slipping it off his shoulders, mesmerised for just a moment by all the tattoos displayed on his chest and arms, before coming back to sink his teeth into the soft hollow just above his collarbone. He wanted all of him, all at once, right now. He grabbed Harry’s hips, forcing him closer so their crotches ground together. Louis bucked into Harry, grinding himself even harder with the friction, shivering all over, moans of pleasure escaping from his open mouth as he pressed more kisses into Harry’s skin.

But then Harry pulled back, holding Louis’ face in his hands, his thumbs lightly stroking along his cheekbones.

“Hey,” he panted, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ heated forehead, “Wait. Stop for a second. Maybe we should slow down for a bit.”

Louis tried, he really did, pulling back and letting himself collapse down onto the sofa, gasping for breath. He couldn’t stop himself from rubbing his palms up and down Harry’s thighs where they straddled either side of his body. He bit his lip, struggling to hold himself back from lunging again.

“Um, ok. But, like, why?”

Harry flicked his hair out of his face so he could peer clearly at Louis.

“Well, I think, maybe you’re a teensey bit drunk? I mean, are you sure?”

Louis propped himself up on his elbows, frowning. "Um, well actually ..." He would have blushed then if it had been possible for his face to get any more flushed. "... I sorta have been pretending for the last 20 minutes or so..."

Harry looked confused, so Louis reached out and brought an invisible bottle to his lips, and mimed knocking back a shot. "Well I didn't want to interrupt the flow and give you a reason to leave!" he protested.

Harry grinned at him. "You idiot!" he chuckled.

Louis grinned back – “Now kiss me, you fool.”

And their next few touches were softer, gentler than those that had gone before. But the heat rose again and as Harry trailed electrifying kisses along his neck, Louis found himself whispering into Harry’s ear - “I need to taste you. I want you in my mouth”” - before sliding onto his knees on the floor between Harry’s legs. He unzipped Harry’s tight black jeans, and yanked them down below his hips, not even surprised to find the boy wasn’t wearing underwear. He stretched his lips over Harry’s hard dick, his tongue swirling around the tip, his other hand palming at his own hard-on, while Harry moaned loudly and fisted at the upholstery.

It wasn’t long before Harry was gasping at the sensations caused by Louis’ mouth, biting his bottom lip, ragged breaths gaining in intensity. 

_“Harry! Harry!”_

“Oh god, yes, Louis … that’s it…”

_“Harry!”_

“Yeah… Almost there, Lou…”

Louis pulled off, his lips smacking as they slipped tightly off the end. “You know that’s not me calling for you, right?” he asked Harry, huskily.

Harry threaded his fingers into Louis’ hair, breathing - “No, don’t stop, please...”

A pounding on the door made them both bolt upright.

“Harry? Louis? You in there? Harry Styles? You’re up!”

Louis and Harry stared, frozen, at each other for a split second, before both dove behind the sofa, just as the door burst open to reveal a frenzied-looking Stan, wildly casting his eyes over the room, shouting out – “Fucksake! Harry Styles get your arse on the stage now!”

Louis peeped over the back of the sofa, rapidly dipping back down when he saw the deep frown furrowed on Stan’s forehead.

“Louis. I saw you, you idiot. Everyone’s looking for you. And I don’t want to know, ok? Just get him on stage in the next 30 seconds or I’m bringing everyone down here to watch. The people will have their show, one way or another! You got me?!!”

Then he was gone, the door, swinging wide after him, creaking on its hinges.

“Shit,” Harry cast about him, straining to grab his shirt, pulling at his hair. Louis reached out to grasp his wrist and pull him back.

“Nope.”

“No? No, what?” Harry asked, panicked.

“No. You’re not leaving yet.” Louis smiled at him, pushing onto Harry’s chest until he lay back on the floor, flat on his back. “We’re not quite finished, are we?” Louis then took Harry’s still erect dick in his grip, and pumped him, fast and hard, bringing him off in seconds, Harry’s back arching as he cried out, his come spurted over Louis hand, adding to the collection of stains on the back of the sofa.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry panted, “I have to … God …… You’ll be here, right?”

He pushed Louis off him and struggled upright, tucking himself back into his jeans, fumbling with his shirt buttons. He stood, looking about him, stupefied for a moment or two, as though trying to figure out where it was he was supposed to be going.

Louis chuckled at Harry’s dazed expression. He looked wrecked - hair askew, flushed cheeks and bright eyes, his unbuttoned shirt only barely covering his chest. “You ok there, chuck?” he asked him.

Louis voice seemed to bring Harry back to earth and their eyes met. Harry dove back to Louis, kneeling beside him, cupping his face in his hands and planting rapid, light kisses all over his cheeks, forehead, nose, lips, eyelids. “You are… you are …… really something.”

Louis smiled broadly.

“But -”

Louis’ eyes snapped open, searching Harry’s face. But. Why “but”? What was with the “but”?

“– wait for me here, ok?” Harry continued. “I’ll meet you here after my set. Just wait here and I’ll … we’ll ...” 

He bit his lip, letting his gaze drift to Louis’ mouth, then down along his body to his crotch, before travelling back up to his eyes. And any protest Louis might have had was silenced by those emerald pools. 

“Just wait here. OK?”

Louis nodded mutely. And then, after another soft dashing a kiss to his lips, Harry was gone.

But.

The word lingered in Louis’ mind as he lay back behind the sofa to take care of his own arousal. Louis finished quickly and tidied himself up. 

But.

Louis knew there was no way he could manage to sit alone for the next half-hour, waiting for Harry to come back, not with that word and what it might mean still echoing in his mind. So he made his way back to the bar to watch Harry’s set.  
And after everything happened that was about to happen, Louis sometimes thought back and wondered how much pain and heartache could have been avoided if he had just done as Harry had asked and stayed put.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God this chapter! :-D Hope it made you laugh as much as it made me laugh! That Louis .... he's just got no contro-o-o--oo-ol.


	9. Wish List No. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Harry's back on stage after his shenanigans ... but Louis doesn't like what he sees.**

“And back to the stage tonight - thanks to your frankly annoyingly persistent demands - please put your hands together for - Mr Harry Styles!”

Nick grinned maniacally as the crowd went wild. Thanks to Harry’s previous appearance going viral, tonight’s gig had turned into a Very Big Deal and the Dive was jammed and heaving. Unlike last time, this session was going smoothly – sound systems in working order, lighting glowingly operational, all fixtures and fittings in place. 

Nick raised an arm to welcome Harry to his side and found that Harry’s body seemed unsteady and shaky under his touch. To Nick’s further alarm, he saw that Harry looked flushed and slightly sweaty, his eyes shining almost too brightly, his already unruly hair even more messed than usual. 

Nick edged slightly away from him - if the kid was going to hurl he was taking no chances with his new oxfords. Or … Nick took a second look at him. No, it wasn’t that Harry looked sick, he actually looked … good God, he looked like he had just … ?!

Well, rock and roll, baby! Nick smirked to himself and decided he better get the show on the road. The people were waiting to be delighted and entertained, after all.

“Harry, my old buddy! How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, thanks. I’m excited to be back.” 

“Great! Glad to hear it! We’re so happy you’re back to see us! It was some night last time, wasn’t it? We all need to get the update - what happened with your twinkle-eyed Irishman?!”

The audience yelled in agreement. Harry dropped his head, his long hair falling across his face, hiding his blushes. So fucking endearing, Nick decided. This kid would be the death of him.

Harry shook his head, laughing, “We’re friends! We’re friends! That’s it! It’s all good.”

“Aw!” Nick pouted, his face reflecting the disappointed noises coming from the crowd. Something in Harry’s smile changed ever so slightly, Nick noticed. It was still sweetly charming but now became a bit fixed and rigid.

“Yeah, so…” Harry continued, to Nick’s surprise – he usually had to drag conversation out of him. “I guess I’m still on the search then.”

“You are? Well, yes – of course you are!”

Harry nodded, looking into Nick’s eyes steadily for the first time.

“Yeah, I am. I have refined my list.”

 

At the opposite end of the room, in a dark corner, Louis leaned backwards onto the end of the bar, his elbows resting on the wood behind him, his eyes fixed on the stage. A guy beside him was balancing on top of a high stool, iphone in hand, recording the unfolding events. It took a moment, but he eventually recognised him - he was that Liam chap who had been in the group with Nick, Harry and Niall at the last gig.

“You should get down from there, mate. That’s a bit dangerous.” Louis told him.

“No, it’s fine. I have great balance, me.”

Louis frowned. It appeared someone was attempting to ignore him. He was not prepared to tolerate this. He reached for the water bottle Liam had been drinking from (Stan was serving plastic water bottles?! Cheap. Louis would need to have a word) – and squeezed it hard around the middle, sending a sharp squirt of water through the mouthpiece –– straight into Liam’s right eye.

“Ah!!!!!”

Turns out the chap did have great balance. Louis was impressed.

Liam clambered down from the stool. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Health and safety protocols. No standing on high stools. Basic.”

Liam huffed, and walked away, wiping his face, “Don’t make me miss this, mate. This is crucial,” he said as he stalked off to reposition himself for further filming.

Louis knocked back the rest of his drink. Great, now he felt guilty – that guy should take out a patent on hang-dog expressions. Tonight was involving way too many emotions for Louis. Like, what was even happening on stage? Why couldn’t Nick just let Harry get on with his singing?

And now, Louis cursed his luck, that blondie Niall guy came sauntering over, smiling at everyone, leaning onto the bar beside Louis while he waited to place his order.  
Louis had a general rule that involved hating people who insisted on being happy and smiley all the time. He just didn’t trust them on principle and he had yet to come up with any reason to make an exception for Niall. On top of that, the chap seemed more than eager to go home with Harry at the last gig - not that Louis could blame him -but it didn’t make him any more endearing to Louis just now.

 

Onstage, the conversation had progressed. “So, we’re keeping the blond hair, the 5’9 height requirement, the blue eyes, and the unusual accent?” Nick clarified.

Harry was nodding earnestly. “And nice, don’t forget. Someone who is nice.”

“Yes, of course, nice. But we’re losing the no underwear and the golfing?”

Harry nodded again. 

“And anything else then, any other refinements?”

“Well yes – must like animals. Oh yeah, and crafts.”

“Crafts?”

“Yeah. Crafts. Like, needlepoint and card-making and … stuff.”

“Right.” Nick tried to keep his eyebrow elevation in check. Harry seemed much more into the process this time around, a lot more definite about his list of requirements.

“And also, someone who plays guitar cos I just broke my E string and I’m kinda in a pickle.”

The audience laughed and Nick shrugged off his misgivings and turned to face outwards. “Well then people? Any likely candidates present?”

There was a whoop and a cackle of girlish giggling, and eventually a tall blond girl was pushed forward to the front of the stage – a smaller dark-haired friend at her side, pointing frantically at her, shouting up “This girl! This girl!”

“Oh ho – here we go again, then. Tell us your name missey!” Nick beckoned her forward.

“She’s Taylor,” the dark girl called up, “She has cats! She sings too – she’s great!”

Taylor smiled coyly at her friend, but suddenly stopped her efforts to twist out her friend’s grasp, and stood confidently in front of the stage, right in the centre of the spotlight.

“Did you really break your guitar string?” she directly addressed Harry in a southern American accent.

“Yeah, actually. Just as I was walking on here. Bad timing, right?”

“I have my guitar with me if you want to borrow it?”

“Sure. Yes, please! That would be great.” 

Nick felt redundant. This all seemed suspiciously convenient.

“But um,” Harry fixed that strange bright smile back on his face, “only if you’ll sing something with me?”

 

At the back of the room, Louis’ eyes narrowed as Harry lifted Taylor up on stage. She leaned closely into him, her hands lingering on his arms. They held each other’s gazes as a stage-hand passed Harry a new guitar, and the audience cooed.

“How about – _I got you, babe_?” Harry’s deep husky voice was asking her and she nodded in reply, her eyes twinkling at him as the first chords of the song rang out.

Louis slammed his empty glass onto the bar, making Niall beside him jump and clutch his chest in panic.

“Holy mother of God!” Niall panted, “My heart!”

“Yeah,” muttered Louis, as he stalked off. “Exactly.”


	10. Ceilings and Spreadsheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months have passed and everyone is in Louis' and really, there is too much unrequited love for one room to contain.

Ceilings, Louis wondered to himself - why were his so-called friends so determined to prevent him from ever indulging in the delights of a good ceiling stare?

There were way too many people in his flat this morning - Stan had been hopping up and letting them in one by one for the last hour. And now, despite Louis’ best efforts to lay back on the sofa and admire the view of the blank ceiling over his head, the people were all demanding things.

“Milk, no sugar, Louis!”

“Two sugars, black, thanks. Any bikkies around? Hate drinking tea without a bikkie.”

“Can we use your laptop, Louis? I forgot to bring my charger.”

“Is that leftover pizza in your fridge? What toppings? I’m starving, mate! Give it here.”

“What shit music is this? Gimme your phone - why don’t you have anything decent on here?”

Louis took a deep breath and counted to twenty, just like his step-dad had advised years ago after that meeting with the school principal over Louis’ anger management issues. Twenty was his cut-off point. Anyone who pissed him off after he got to twenty was on their own.

“When is that bill due in from the printers, Lou?” Stan was asking, as he and Sophia poured over various spreadsheets on his laptop. “We really need to manage the cashflow better this month. Mike and the sound guys were pretty pissed about having to wait so long to get paid last time.”

And this kind of statement Louis blamed on Liam’s influence. Stan had never even heard of cashflow management before Sophia had decided it was absolutely essential that they utilise Liam’s “professional expertise” in their little project. 

Liam had turned into a regular face at the gigs and Sophia had told Louis it was really important that they befriend him - because he was “in the industry” and had “the kindest eyes”. Louis had to acknowledge eventually that he was a pleasant chap, friendly and interested in everyone… and yes, he indeed had very kind eyes. He was useful too – he pitched in with the stage set-up at the last couple of gigs when he arrived early and noticed Louis getting irritated once more with the sound-checks.

And somehow he seemed to know Zayn and had assuaged his injured sentiments about the damage to his art at the first gig. And now, not only was Zayn talking to Louis again, but he had created a new backdrop for them and hammered it up himself, nails held between his lips while Liam held the stepladder. And, Louis noted approving, Liam had managed to avoid staring directly at Zayn’s crotch for the whole exercise, despite it being at his eye-level. That took will-power. He had to credit the man for that.

So thanks to Liam, they were now working to budgets and marketing plans and Ghantt charts. Crazy stuff that Louis hadn’t thought that anyone ever actually used in real life. And he was now washing up the empty mugs and putting a fresh carton of milk into their fridge. The boy did have his uses.

“Oh, the printers aren’t charging,” Zayn piped up from where he was laying on the floor, taking photos of his own face, pouting and narrowing his eyes at the lens, “a girl in my class is a daughter to the owner - I sweet-talked her into getting him to sponsor the posters and flyers.”

“Brilliant Zayn!” Liam beamed down at him, “that eliminates a major expense. We’re going to be way ahead of target this month. Well done, mate!”

“Yeah,” Zayn grinned back, “and she’s a total fire-cracker in the sack! It’s a win-win situation all around.”

Louis couldn’t handle the obvious sadness that ricocheted from Liam’s to Sophia’s facial expressions at that statement, so he picked up his phone, deciding he should quickly check the Dive’s Facebook page for comments on last night’s gig. 

And that was a decision he immediately regretted. Louis followed too many gossip sites, he had to acknowledge, and his feed had thrown up the unavoidable Haylor pap snap that featured everywhere these days - Harry and Taylor, strolling hand in hand through some leafy city street, both looking too beautiful for mere mortals such as himself to gaze upon. 

Mind you, Harry had a slightly hounded expression on his face as he noticed the photographer taking the shot, and Taylor’s head was bowed, her eyes hidden behind black sunglasses, but there they were, flaunting themselves on the screen of Louis’ phone, taunting him with their perfect, sexy, designer-label-wearing existences while he sat for yet another morning (or was it afternoon already?), in his 6 year old pajama bottoms (so soft, ok?), nursing a hangover again and resenting the world.

“Aw!” Sophia wandered past and picked up his phone, pouting slightly at the image, “I can’t believe they broke up already. They were so cute together.”

“They what?” Louis sprang upright, stretching his hand out for his phone.

Sophia returned to the table to sit with Stan and clapped her hands excitedly when Stan pushed his tally over to her, circling the healthy profit figure.

“Yay! The Centre is going to be so thrilled, Stan. But hey Louis – our gig brought Haylor together – maybe we can help heal the rift! What do you think?”

“Oh, no way - Harry does NOT need to go back there.” Liam muttered, and then slapped his hand over his own mouth, his eyes widening in alarm. “Shouldn’t have said that. Unprofessional. Client confidentiality. Ignore.”

“Really Liam?” Stan was grinning devilishly at Louis. He had been remarkably restrained over however much he had witnessed in the Bat Cave that night. Until now. “Hear that, Louis? Harry’s single again. Isn’t that interesting news?”

Louis’ face was aflame but he did his best to brazen it out. “Cool. He can find himself another nice, blond, golf-playing crafter for himself. Like, who gives a shit?”

Maybe he should have been cooler than that, actually. Everyone was now looking at him and their eyes were all shining too brightly. He felt like fresh roadkill under the watch of circling vultures.

Louis snorted, and kicked a pillow off the sofa, before harrumping around until his face was buried into the cushions.

“Um, Louis.” Stan’s voice was gentle, “Do you want to tell us something, by any chance? Something maybe about you and maybe some feelings you might be secretly harboring?"

Sophia giggled. 

Louis sighed quietly. Stan had a big mouth.

“No. I have nothing to say, actually.” Louis needed new friends. Friends who did not get giggly and over-involved in his love life, or lack thereof. 

“I can take you down to the driving range for a golf lesson sometime, if you like?” Stan offered. 

“And I’m all on for a shopping trip for hair-dye,” Sophia chipped in.

“Oh Harry isn’t really interested in blond golfers,” Liam said off-handedly, filling the kettle and lining up a row of mugs for a second round of tea. “And anyway, he hasn’t had time to play golf in over 5 months. You should see his schedule. He’s booked solid for the next year. Apart from a bunch of work-meetings, I doubt I’m going to get more than 5 minutes with him when he’s back from the States next week.”

Louis' spine reacted before he did - suddenly shooting ram-rod straight, so he was sitting upright n his seat.

Liam seemed to notice the tension his words had caused and flushed deeply. “Shit. I did it again. Shut up Liam. OK. Someone slap me if I mention my client’s personal business ever again. Here - someone give me something useful to do.”

As Liam dove back into spreadsheet analysis, helpfully distracting Sophia and Stan from inflicting further humiliation, (and Zayn had quickly got distracted again by the sight of his own face in his phone screen), Louis chewed on his bottom lip. No. He had thought about it and he was quite sure now - Louis was not even slightly interested in whatever country Harry happened to find himself in next week. Nothing to do with him, whatsoever. He had no opinions on the matter. The end.

And wow - that ceiling sure was fascinating.


	11. Dump the Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Harry meets with his marketing team and doesn't eat a banana.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's just a quickie. Next chapter is longer and contains Niall.

“So overall, it’s disappointing. The tie-ins have really slowed. Simon’s going nuts.” Stacy came to the end of her report with the clanging mention of their boss’ wrath and if that sure as hell shook Harry out of his jeg-lag haze. He jerked upright in his seat and took in the sight in front of him.

The whole marketing team sat around a shiny desk, empty coffee cups, ipads and phones strewn in front of them, flicking their pens and chewing their lips. Harry reached for a banana from the fruit bowl, feeling a sudden need for something sweet to help him swallow down the taste of humiliation. 

Liam, as usual, tried to speak up for him. “But at least the E.P.’s going great, right? Still in the top ten in most of the streaming charts.”

Harry flashed him a grateful smile, but it faded quickly when the team tutted around him.

“Honestly, Liam, like that means anything. No one makes money from music sales any more, you know that. It’s all about the merchandising and tie-in deals. And Harry’s appeal seems to have peaked. Everyone’s moving on now. We’re in trouble. We need to come up with something. Fast.”

“He needs to buff up, for one thing.” a girl called Hattie muttered. “Look at what the Calvin Klein deal did for Justin’’s relaunch. Harry is far from ready for an underwear shoot.”

“Harry works out,” Liam protested, as everyone turned to appraise at Harry’s body. 

He slowly put the banana back. He felt an urge to pull his jacket closed across his stomach under their critical appraisal, but resisted it. Co-operative. He needed to let everyone know he was still as co-operative as ever. He wouldn’t let them down.

“Well, we could go with another wishlist set-up.” Another bright suggestion from one of the team broke into his reverie. “…Could set up a This Morning interview……”

“No.” Someone else said firmly. “No one cares anymore. Harry wants a girlfriend and goes on dates. Blah, blah. So what? Who doesn’t? There’s no story there.”

Or a boyfriend, Harry thought quietly to himself. They never seemed to want to acknowledge that side of him.

“He’s a nice guy,” Stacey said, finally. And Harry looked at her in surprise. She wasn’t usually complimentary. This was a development.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? There’s nothing sellable about nice.”” Stacey continued. 

Ah, that was the Stacey Harry knew best.

There were general murmurs of agreement around the table.

“Yes”, Stacy nodded to herself, looking disconcertingly like she had come up with an idea, “we need to dump the “nice”. 

Harry decided he better speak up before she got too far along with her plotting. “I’m not going to start acting like an asshole, Stacy. I’m just going to put the music out there and if people don’t like it anymore, well, then…”

Harry shrugged. He smiled calmly at each of them in turn. He actually had no idea how to finish that sentence. In truth, the thought of not being able to do this anymore, not being up there singing, performing, surfing on the elation of the crowds in front of him – well it caused something cold to clench tightly around his lungs. He only ever felt truly at peace these days when he was on stage.

“Listen guys, thanks for all your efforts. Really. I appreciate all the hard work you’ve been putting into this.”

Shit, he was being nice again –– they hated that, didn’t they?

“But I’m sure it’ll all work out ok when the full album is released. I feel good about it, really.”

“Sure Harry,” Stacey nodded at him, her smile failing to reach her eyes. “I’m sure you’re right. You just get the music out there, and leave the rest to us.”

Everyone started picking up their stuff then and it seemed the meeting had drawn to a close. Harry followed them out, with an unsettling feeling that something had been decided, and he hadn’t quite followed what that was.


	12. Hugs and Endorsement Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Niall - back together again! Yay!

Niall swung open the door to his apartment, spreading his arms wide, grinning from ear to ear.

“Way hay!!! Harry’s back!!!”

Harry threw himself against Niall, wrapping his arms tight around him, curling his body around his slightly shorter friend and burying his face into his neck. He held on tight and inhaled deeply against Niall’s skin, feeling like it was the first time in weeks he had been able to breath properly. He pressed their bodies together snugly – he’d have wrapped his legs around Niall too only that he knew the smaller man was unlikely to appreciate holding up his weight.

Niall laughed at the ferocity of the hug, patting Harry’s shoulders. “Hey, man. I missed you too.” 

When Harry didn’t let go after a few minutes, Niall’s expression changed to puzzlement. He slid his arms down from Harry’s shoulders to circle around his back and held him close. “Hey … you ok?”

Harry nodded, still not lifting his face from Niall’s neck, and squeezed him even tighter. 

Niall just continued to hold Harry, stroking up and down his back, waiting patiently for Harry to be ready to let go. Eventually, Harry reluctantly relaxed his grip and pulled away, smiling a half-embarrassed smile at Niall.

“Hi,” he croaked.

Niall chuckled at him. “Hi. Better now?”

Harry nodded, but then shrugged apologetically and asked “Can I have another one?”

Niall laughed again, dragging Harry inside and shutting the door behind them, before pulling him into another tight embrace. “You can have as many hugs as you need, bro.”

“Thanks,” Harry sighed back into Niall’s neck.

They stood together in the hallway, holding on closely, not speaking.

“This shirt is very soft,” Niall commented after a few minutes, pinching the fabric between his fingertips.

“Think it’s silk,” Harry’s muffled voice explained. ““It’s YSL. They send me stuff to be photographed in.”

“Right… It’s very nice.”

“Thanks.”

Niall propped his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “Very light fabric, though,” he continued, after a short while, “sorta see-through. Aren’t you cold? You forgot to do up some buttons.”

He could swear he could feel Harry’s lips turning up into a smile.

“Nope. Not cold. Thanks for caring though, Mum.”

Niall snuck a glance at his watch and, after a few more minutes into the longest hug in history, he spoke again. “I like your aftershave too.”

Harry pulled away, laughing – to Niall’s immense relief.

“Thanks Niall. I can get you some, if that’s a hint.”

“It was a compliment, not a hint. Hey!” he nudged his shoulder into Harry’s, peering questioningly at him, “Are you sure you’re ok, dude?”

“Of course!” Harry grinned. “Missed you is all! You and your inability to handle a comfortable silence.”

Niall smiled back at him, one eyebrow raised, but when Harry’s grin stayed fixed on his face, he gave up and lead him into the living room. “So,” Niall asked, ““what do you want to do tonight then? Murdock’s have these cool 70s music nights lately – there’s this amazing Fleetwood covers band - thought we could get some grub somewhere and then pop in there for a few later?”

“Oh,” Harry looked perturbed, “you want to go out? Cool. I’d just need to arrange for one of the guys to come along. Um, security. The label insist. It’s an insurance thing or something. Sorry. But they’re nice guys. Won’t even notice them……”

Niall appraised the strained smile returning to Harry’s face. “Or … I have some beers in the fridge if you just want to chill here? My flatmates are gone for the night. Could order in?”

“Could we do that?” Harry gasped, “Cos, like, I think that would be perfect.” Then he frowned again, biting at his lip. “I mean, unless you want to go out? I can do whatever.”

This time it was Niall who reached for Harry and bundled him into his arms, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “’Course we can stay in, dude. You just chill out and relax.”

“Cool!” Harry looked brighter than he had since arriving. “Can I take my clothes off?”

“What? No, Harry. You can’t.”

“But that’s how I relax.”

“Don’t want to you getting that relaxed, mister. I thought we established that?”

“It’s not a sexual thing, Niall. It’s just how I feel most comfortable.” 

“And… he’s back.” Niall rolled his eyes to the ceiling, before going off to rummage for his stash of take-out menus.

 

After a few games of FIFA, protracted clothing-removal negotiations (Niall holding firmly to his position that nothing above the ankle could be removed), an agreement to order from two different take-out places (since Harry insisted on some Thai tofu organic shit that he immediately ignored in favour of Niall’s stuffed crust pizza once it arrived), and a couple of ice-cold beers, the conversation finally moved to the whirlwind that Harry’s life had become in the last few months.

“It’s been incredible, Niall. Just ... I can’t get my head around it. I never even thought half of this stuff would happen to me.”

Niall nodded. It had been weird for him too. One day this guy was his slightly dippy new friend, crashing at his place so often he might as well have lived there, stealing his beers, flirting with his friends, being adorable and annoying in equal measure and then, almost overnight, the kid was just gone, swallowed up into a vortex of tabloid pictures, social media frenzies, travel, performances and appearances. Their friendship morphed into an occasional rushed phone call, some middle-of-the night texts, and a blitz of snapchats when Harry got a chance to take selfies with his musical heroes.  
Niall had missed him, but had been so excited for Harry at the same time – delighted that he was living his dream, that he was getting the chance to do what made him happy. 

Except now, the more Harry talked, the more he told Niall how lucky he was, the less convinced Niall was that he had been right about that last part.

“Like, it’s all been so fast – all these incredible things are happening – like, I was on Ellen – Ellen!! I love her. And she was so nice and funny and she said something about getting dinner with her and Portia afterwards but before I can even answer– we’re rushing off to sound-check for the performance with Chrissie Hynde at the Grammys. Like, did that even happen? Or, did I make that bit up? None of it seems real.”

Niall couldn’t stop watching Harry. He had retained his fixed smile ever since he arrived, but as they were talking he had scratched all the labels off the beer bottles and was now ripping the paper into ever tinier pieces, his fingers a blurred flurry of tension.

“And there is so much stuff I never knew was part the job. Like these endorsement deals and... did you know about these things? I can’t – like, I can’t EVER be seen drinking anything but Coca Cola in the U.S. or I’ll be sued. SUED, Niall! You know, I asked them, what if I’m really thirsty one day and there’s only juice – but - No. No way. Never. I must die first.”

“But you don’t even drink cola anyway, Harry.”

“I KNOW NIALL! Good point! Ha, ha! You’re hilarious!”

Niall jumped a little at the sudden rise in volume. Harry was cackling over his own knees now.

“It’s all so funny, isn’t it? And I keep meeting people, you know? So many new people… and everyone is really nice. So nice! And everyone seems to have an idea for me - you know – _“oh hey – you gotta lay down a vocal for a track on my album”_ , or, like – _“hey man, here’s a t-shirt from my new line –– let the paps see you in it”_ , or – _“Let’s go eat in my friend’s restaurant, I got a share”_ … it’s nuts. It’s, it’s just, so FUNNY Niall. Ha ha ha!”

Harry started slapping his knees then, braying loudly, scattering the beer label confetti everywhere. As Niall was trying to figure out what exactly he had missed that was meant to be funny, Harry’s laughter turned into choked wheezing, and suddenly he was gasping and coughing. He jumped up from the sofa and ran over to the window, wrenching it upwards and leaned out into the night, desperately gulping at the cold air. 

Niall rushed to his side, not quite sure what to do. He ran his hand along Harry’s back, feeling his muscles clenching tightly under his hand. Slowly, Harry’s breathing returned to normal, and he levelled an embarrassed glance at Niall.

“Sorry.” He leaned on the ledge a moment longer, then pulled the window closed again. “I’m ok now.”

Niall squeezed his shoulder, “Wow. What was that? That was a bit scary.”

Harry shrugged, smiling weakly, “It just happens sometimes. Just a bit of stress, maybe. I’m ok. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry.” Niall told him gently. He led him back to the sofa, rubbing vigorously across his shoulders. “Don’t be stressing. I’m glad you’re here. It sounds like you need to be here.”

They both sank back into the cushions, sitting closely side by side. Niall could feel little rushes of trembles shuddering through Harry’s body every now and then, but it eventually subsided, and Harry sighed and let his head fall back against the backrest, eyes closed.

“The Grammy thing definitely happened, by the way.” Niall quietly confirmed. “You didn’t imagine it. I saw it. You were good."

“OK. Well. If you say so.”

“But, is it…” Niall was almost afraid to ask, “is it getting too much? Is it – do you think you’ll be ok with it all? I know it’s been crazy, but it’s still what you want right?”

Harry opened his eyes, staring upwards blankly. “Simon says to just give it everything, that these chances don’t come along twice, and that if I don’t go for it now, I’ll look back in 5 years when I’m flipping burgers and wonder where it all went wrong.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “It’s impressive surely the way he believes in you so much. That fella is such an arse, honestly.”

Harry snorted and laughed softly. This time, the laughter sounded a lot more natural to Niall that the previous near-hysteria. 

“And for the record,” Niall continued, “you’d never get hired to flip burgers. You are so clumsy you would be a liability in any kitchen.”

Harry punched his arm – but at least he laughed again. “I think I’m so exhausted, I can’t even tell if I’m happy about everything or not. I don’t feel anything at all about it – but, that’s just being tired, right? It’s ok. It’s all good. I’m incredibly lucky, I know. I’m sorry.”

Niall gathered him up into his arms, pulling him in to cradle him against his chest. “My poor little baby superstar!” 

Harry curled into him. “I know this is annoying, but please don’t stop with the hugs, ok?”

Niall kissed the top of Harry’s head. “OK. You are lucky I am so comfortable in my masculinity. Tonight, for you Harry, I will squeeze the shit out of you.”

“Ew … that’s disgusting Niall.”

“I didn’t mean it literally, for fuck’s sake! What’s wrong with you? Anyway, I will also allow you to sleep in my bed with me and we will make spoons.”

“Really? And can I be the little spoon?”

“On condition you keep clothes on.”

“But Niii-alll, I can’t sleep with clothes on – it’s too hot.”

“I will lend you pajamas.”

“Pajamas belong to the wardrobe of the devil. No.”

“Boxers and t-shirt, then. And socks.”

“But I’m so sad and stressed out.”

“OK, ok! Just boxers, then. That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

Niall felt Harry chuckling into his chest. Damn it, he probably caved too early.

Niall eventually got up tidy away the mess Harry had made and then turned the lights low and stuck on a movie. He grabbed another couple of beers, and then curled back onto the sofa, letting Harry slump down onto his shoulder, the light from the screen flickering against their faces.

“Hey,” he scratched at Harry’s head, “I really think it’ll all be ok, Harry. It’s natural to feel a bit freaked out – it’s totally crazy the way everything has happened for you. Anyone would feel the same. New is scary. But then it stops being new after a while, and you figure things out and it all gets ordinary and then you look for something else new to scare the shite out of yourself.”

“Yeah, ok. You’re probably right. It’s just … it isn’t like I thought it would be.”

Niall gave him a squeeze. “Things rarely are.”

Harry sighed dramatically. “So young … yet so wise.” 

“Shut up. I’m being soothing here. I’m your fucking rock, I’ll have you know.”

“I love you, Niall” Harry crooned.

“Shut up, Harry.”

They drifted into silence then and Niall thought Harry had fallen asleep before he heard him tentatively mutter, “Hey Niall? Have you been back to that open-mic night since?”

“Oh yeah, a good few times.”

“Um, do you know Louis then – the guy that runs it?”

Niall nodded. “Louis? Yeah. Hard to avoid him! He’s a right sarky bastard. A good laugh though. He’s dragged loads of us into helping to build a garden at this Centre for children with disabilities. One hour’s labour gets you a free pint at The Dive. Got me blisters though,” Niall held up his palm for Harry to inspect. “Oh - I think your Liam has fallen in love with his friend Zayn though.”

“Really? I suppose I could see that coming.”

Niall laughed, “Yeah, I don’t think Liam is usually into guys but Zayn’s so beautiful he’s created a full-blown sexuality crisis for Liam, and meanwhile Zayn’s totally oblivious and keeps getting off with these blond girls who all look the same. It’s a total car crash.”

“Poor Liam.”

The conversation faded again for a while before Harry spoke up.

“But he’s ok, then? Louis?”

“Yeah, as far as I know. Why?”

“No reason.”

Another long silence.

“Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

“Oh really, Harry?” Niall chortled, making Harry’s head bounce where it lay on his chest, “And why do we want to know that, then?”

“Stop being loud. Never mind. It’s irrelevant.”

“And what about Taylor? That done now?”

“Um… yeah. That wasn’t ever really anything … It was just something the label pushed us into... well, at first anyway.”

“One of your endorsement deals?”

“Kinda. But I liked her. We ended up liking each other. In the end, it got a bit … complicated. We weren’t exactly on the same page. Actually, I think she might be a bit angry with me now.”

“Yeah, think I heard that song.” Niall’s laughter faded away to a chuckle or two before he spoke again, deciding to put Harry out of his misery, “Louis’ not, as far as I know, seeing anyone. Never see him there with anyone in particular anyway.”

“Never mind. Don’t care anyway.”

“Sure, sure. How long are you staying around for?”

“God, I don’t know – about a week I think? Depends on … stuff.”

“Perfect.”

“Why?”

“Can you get a few hours free on this Saturday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Narry SO MUCH! 
> 
> Hey - if Niall had picked the Tattoo box on James Cordon, do you think Harry would have volunteered as tribute for him?


	13. Coping.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis visits his mum.

For once in his life Louis was on track and organised for the day ahead. In fact, he was actually ahead of schedule - someone mark this day on the calendar and turn it into a national holiday for all eternity. He was allowing himself to be excited this morning because, in just a few hours, at 3 o’clock that afternoon, the new garden at Happy Hearts Centre would be officially opened. Today was the culmination of tons of effort and Louis was determined to have a good day. Especially since it was probably the last weekend he could allow himself to chill and have fun for a while before properly putting his focus back onto his studies for the last few weeks before finals.

He fished out his key to his Mum’s front door and twirled them jauntily around his finger before slipping them into the lock. Yes. That’s how chirpy he felt today - he was even unlocking doors jauntily. Take that, universe!

The universe, typically, refused to play along and Louis knew it the second he entered his Mum’s house.

A faint smell of lingering rubbish and cigarette smoke was the first thing that greeted him as soon as he swung open the door, and then he saw the stacks of junk mail lining the hallway and the ground-in dirt and cat-hair embedded into the carpet. How had all this happened so fast? It was only a week and a half since he had last called to see her.

The place was eerily quiet. He tried not to think about the days when his arrival would be greeted with excited shrieks of “Louis! Louis’ here!” and thundering footsteps down the staircase. His younger siblings were living with their Dads’ these days. It was for the best, everyone had agreed. Everything was amicable. Everyone could visit whenever they wanted.

It was just that there were times when no one wanted to.

Like now.

Louis braced himself and stepped further inside, calling out a tentative “Mum?”

“Louis? Is that you, pet?” he heard from further inside the house, and he felt a rush of relief course through his body. It wasn’t that bad then. She was up and willing to talk. OK, he could deal with this.  
Louis ventured down the hallway, entering the kitchen, where he found his mother sitting at the table in front of an over-spilling ashtray and an unfinished crossword.

“Louis!” she smiled, stretching her hands out to him, “why didn’t you say you were coming? I would have tidied up. The place is a mess.”

He brought her close to his chest, trying to ignore her unwashed scent and greasy hair.

“It’s ok Mum. You don’t need to clean up for me, you know that. But I did tell you I was coming - remember? It’s the garden opening today at the Centre. Thought you were coming with me?”

“How are you, pet?” she asked, completely ignoring his question, squeezing his arm, “Is college ok? Are you passing all your exams?”

He smiled and sat beside her at the table, letting her grip his hand tightly. Oh, so they were back to this then. OK. Louis knew the rules - if he just didn’t mention the Thing They Couldn’t Talk About, there was a chance this set-back could be headed off at the pass. “Yeah, everything’s fine at college and I’m just here to see me ol’ Mum, that’s all.”

She smiled at him wanly. Her face was pale and lined, dark circles under her eyes. She rubbed his hand fondly, “You are such a good boy, Louis.” Her voice became whispery and hoarse, “Such a good boy.”

“Mum,” Louis tried to use a soothing tone, “how about a cuppa? A nice cup of tea and a bikkie? Yes?”

She smiled sadly at him, and nodded. “OK then, love. But I’m not sure I’ve much in. If I’d known you were coming …”

Louis sighed quietly and got up to put on the kettle. When he opened the fridge door he raised the back of his hand to his nose, trying to block out the smell.

“Looks like we need milk, Mum.” He forced his voice into a cheery tone. “What about a little trip to Tescos? We can pick up something nice for lunch, yes?”

His mother was slumping at the table, leaning into one raised hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she was whispering. “I’m no good. The place is a state, I know. Everything is getting on top of me.”  
Louis fought his urge to rush to her like he would have done years before. He knew the best way to handle this was to avoid mollycoddling her. Instead, he had to gently push her into action - any activity at all was better than coddling her and letting her slip down further into this.

“Come on, Mum.” He reached for her coat which was flung over the back of a nearby chair. “Let’s go shopping. I fancy something tasty, like fajitas, what about you? Come on! Up you get!”

She slowly raised herself and allowed Louis to guide her into her coat. “Fajitas, yes,” she sniffled, “whatever you like, pet. Let’s go shopping.”

 

After their shopping trip, Louis had managed to clear away all the rubbish from the house, run a bath for his Mum, hoover the worst out of the carpets and clear out anything furry from the fridge. He convinced his Mum to eat some of the fajita’s and even a little bit of ice-cream for dessert, and after that, over a cup of tea, he very tentatively enquired if she had been continuing taking her medication. When she tearfully admitted that she had been taking a break from it, Louis brought the little bottle of pills down from the bathroom cabinet and placed it in front of her with a glass of water.

“You know you just can’t stop suddenly like that, Mum. You need to talk to Dr Bernard about it first.”

“I know, I’m sorry love.” She twisted off the cap obediently and shook one white pill into her palm. “It just seemed for a while like I was coping better, that things were easier. I hate taking these things. I wanted to be normal again. I thought I was getting to be normal again.” 

She swallowed the pill down. “So much for that, then.” She tried to force a brave smile on her face, but it faded quickly.

Louis reached for her hand across the table. “You are normal, Mum. It’s normal to be sad after... everything. Don’t feel bad about it.”

“I just. Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about her ...”

“I know. What if I call Marc and ask him to bring the girls for a visit?”

“I better wait for these things to kick in,” she said, shaking the prescription bottle. “I hate them seeing me when I’m low like this.”

Louis took a slow breath, “You know they love you no matter what - we all do. We understand.”

She gazed at Louis then, a tender love shining from her eyes. “Where did I get you from? My good boy. You’re the best person I know, Louis. I’m so proud of you. You have become such a wonderful, kind, strong man. How did that happen under my eyes?”

Louis ducked his face away, blinking rapidly his prickling eyes. “Well, I had a great Mum raising me.”

She shook her head. “I wish that was true. But I am proud of you. I love you so much.”

“Love you too.” He rushed to gather up the dirty plates and bring them over to the sink, swallowing the hard lump in his throat. “Now are we going to sit around gushing all day or is somebody going to help me with these dishes?”

 

When the time came for him to leave, Louis was exhausted and his stomach felt as though he had swallowed a lump of ice. For a while, he had considered not going to the opening, but he had promised to help with the decorations and he knew they’d struggle to get everything ready in time without him. He couldn’t let them down. His mum had repeatedly reassured him that she would be fine, promised that she’d phone for an appointment with Dr Bernard after the weekend and practically pushed him out the door.

And he knew she would be ok. This had happened before and they had sorted it. She just needed to get back on her medication, get back into her routine – zumba classes once a week, seeing her friends every Wednesday at the bingo night at the local pub. She had lost her job as a teaching assistant five years ago after too many days of not showing up, but she sometimes volunteered with children’s reading classes at the local library. Louis would try to talk to her about getting back to that once the medication kicked in.

It would all be ok, he kept telling himself, as he waited for the bus to arrive. She’d be ok. He’d be a better son now. He’d study, he’d keep up his visits to the Children’s Centre and he’d start applying for jobs so he could take care of his family. No more distractions.

Everything would be ok. He’d make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to have the next chapter up by the weekend - and it'll feature the whole gang together for the first time.


	14. The Rag Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Our five boys are there for the opening of the garden at the children's centre. Harry gets to know more about Louis.**

When Harry and Liam’s taxi pulled up at the Happy Hearts Centre late on Saturday afternoon, they found Niall waiting for them outside the door, holding tightly to a huge bunch of bright yellow helium balloons.

“Niall, I hope you have secured yourself to something heavy,” Harry smirked as he climbed out of the car, “I’m not spending the rest of today chasing a little airborne leprechaun around the skies.”

“Oh wow, that would be feckin’ brilliant ,” Niall breathed, looking up hopefully at the balloons, before giving up on his secret dreams and asking, “Did you remember your guitar?”

Harry swung around the case he was carrying and brandished it at Niall like it was a machine gun, causing Niall to raise his hands in surrender. A split second later he realised his mistake and leapt up to clutch after the drifting strings of the balloons while Harry and Liam grabbed at each other, collapsing into laughter.

“Oi, oi, what’s this?” a voice came from behind them, and Harry leapt upright, rigidly facing Niall, electrified into silence. 

“Fucksake, Niall, I gave you one job!” Louis complained, watching a lone balloon drift away over the roof of the building.

Niall was panting after his few seconds of wild leaping after balloon strings, but he grinned proudly at Louis. “Don’t stress after a lost balloon Louis. I’ve brought you a bonus prize today – may I present to you, for your delight and entertainment, the one and only, Mr Harry Styles!” 

Niall gestured with his fists (now determinedly clenched around the strings) towards Harry and beamed broadly in clear expectation of being lavished with praise and admiration.

Harry slowly raised his eyes to Louis, trying to ignore the pounding inside his chest. 

Louis.

He was just as cute and confusing as Harry remembered – this strange combination of softness and sharp angles, a long fringe flopping low over startling blue eyes, smooth skin over sharp cheeks, a loose cotton t-shirt scooping low over tattooed collar-bones.

Louis nodded a brief acknowledgment, before striding towards the door. “The kids will be excited you’re here,” he said, over his shoulder, sounding anything but excited himself. “Niall, would you get those balloons inside before you lose any more. Sorry, I’ve got to get on with things - running late. Chat later.”

Harry, Liam and Niall quietly watched the door swing shut behind Louis.

“Um, don’t worry. I’m sure the other people will be happy you’re here.” Niall shrugged apologetically. Liam slapped at his shoulder encouragingly and Harry forced a smile on his face in response. He followed the guys into the Centre. Not at all wistfully gazing after the escapee balloon that was now disappearing over the horizon.

The official opening of the Happy Hearts Centre sensory garden was a delightful occasion - the families who used the Centre were all mixing happily around a picnic table piled high with cakes and treats, and Sophia and her friend Lou were painting faces, so the garden was soon filled with wild, loud mini-tigers, butterflies, spidermen and hulks. 

Some guy with a gold chain of office around his neck came and planted a tree at one stage, and everyone clapped politely and pretended to be interested, but it was only when the Manager of the Centre made her heartfelt speech of thanks to the “wonderful, talented young people” who had contributed so much to the Centre, that the families really gathered round in a tight huddle of excitement. 

A little boy and girl were wheeled forwards in their wheelchairs, and held out huge bouquets of flowers to a beaming Sophia and Louis. “Thank you for our garden,” they chorused, clearly practiced enough to overcome their nerves. And then a tiny bespeckled boy with caliper supports around his legs trotted forward and presented Zayn with a framed page of the hand prints of all the kids in the Centre. “Thank you for the art you made for our angels,” he said, and the room filled with sniffles and spilling eyes, while Zayn tried to retreat backwards into the crowd, head bowed and flushed cheeks.

Liam turned to Harry while the applause rang on, whispering “You have to see what he has done. It’s incredible. He’s amazing.”

Harry smiled briefly back at Liam, clapping along, while Niall rolled his eyes behind Liam’s back, slowly shaking his head in exasperation.

After the speeches, Harry was tugged out of the crowd, and introduced as “our surprise special guest” to an appreciative round of gasps and cheers. He settled onto a high stool underneath the array of Niall’s balloons and sang without amplification, just his own guitar accompanying his voice. It had been a long time since he had done this so simply. It felt good.

He noticed one little girl mouthing fervently along, showing off her knowledge of all his song lyrics, and he gestured for her to come forward and join him in singing in front of everyone. This led to a clamber of other little performers and in no time Harry was sitting cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by kids, everyone braying out a hilariously dissonant version of the Frog Song. He wasn’t quite sure how they had got on to that one, but he as called out to get stuck into a last chorus of “Win or lose, sink or swim, one thing is certain, we’ll never give in….” Harry was suddenly swept with embarrassment of his own privilege – to be healthy and strong, to have his family members all alive and well, to know he could do whatever he chose to – he realised today that he was one of the lottery winners in life. He was lucky - and was grateful for today, for this reminder of it.

Even if that luckiness didn’t extend to things with Louis, he thought, glancing at the one unsmiling face, drifting at the back of the crowd. The last time they had been together, Harry felt that he and Louis had been caught in some kind of magnetic field, irresistibly drawn to each other. But now it was like the magnet ends had flipped and they were repelling each other just as strongly - wherever Harry moved Louis wandered to the furthest away possible space.

 

One of the nurses eventually swooped in to rescue Harry from the mob of over-excited children, pulling him to his feet and shepherding him through the crowd. “Let the poor lad have a break, for goodness sake! Give him some cake before it’s all gone!” she cried, before grabbing out at a passing elbow.

“Louis!” she exclaimed, “give Harry a tour!” and pushed them together before dashing off to greet one of the mothers.

Harry watched Louis squirm for a moment. “I’d love if you’d show me around, Louis.” He told him, leaning forward, trying to force Louis into meeting his eyes. Instead, Louis scanned over the crowd until he spotted Niall, Liam and Zayn chatting together. “OK, let’s do it.” Louis said eventually, waving the other boys over.

Well at least he didn’t refuse outright, Harry consoled himself. OK, so whatever he had hoped he might revive with Louis was clearly not on the cards. He’d just get the garden tour with the boys and clear off – Syco wanted him to show his face at a party they were hosting later anyway. Harry sloped along with the small group, forcing his attention away from the sad little sinking feeling in his belly, to pay attention to Louis’ explanations.

“This section,” Louis was saying, “is called The Whispering Garden”. It was planted with tall grasses and bamboos. “When the wind blows through, the plants will rustle and whisper to each other, and there are little alcoves and nooks among the planting so the kids can come and whisper their secrets here. A place where no one will ever break a confidence or make them feel ashamed.”

Harry nodded, closing his eyes, imagining it when it was fully grown. He felt enveloped and hidden inside the tall greenery. He could imagine himself coming back here, sunshine illuminating the green, a host of friendly stalks crowding around, leaning in to hear his secret thoughts. It felt safe. He envied the kids.

They meandered onwards. Niall running excitedly forward to the next section – “This is the bit that gave me blisters!” he told Harry, “it’s kind of like a Scratch N Sniff place.”

“We’ve got mint, lemon verbena, roses, lavender and… um.. other smelly ones”, Louis said, brushing his hands over the plants there, releasing a cloud of heavenly scents. 

“Hey – I remember this one” Niall was saying, tapping at a thin-stalked bush with red and white flowers. “This plant is called Hotlips – how cool is that?” He pursed his lips at Harry and made a kissy noise before laughing to himself. “It’s petals go red when the weather is hot and white when it’s cold, and it smells really -” Niall inhaled deeply, “Blackcurranty. FRESH.”

Harry inhaled the scent. It was intoxicating. He noted the tiny petals of the flowers were split half-red/half white. He couldn’t help but let his eyes drift over to Louis where he was waiting for everyone.

Louis seemed to notice Harry looking in his direction and hurriedly turned away. Half hot, half cold, Harry thought. Then his eyes lingered over the rambling roses - something grabbed his attention among the foliage.

“Hey, what’s that?” he asked, pointing at a shimmering, round shape nestled into the plants.

“Ah, that is one of Zayn’s pieces,” Liam murmured, barely audible. “He’s done something amazing for the kids who, well, the ones who used to come here to the Centre.”

“The ones who have passed on,” Zayn explained, as gnawing shyly at his bottom lip. “A lot of the kids who come here are very unwell. It’s really sad, but some of them don’t make it. Everyone wanted to have a memorial for them in the garden.

“They were talking about putting some crappy plaque on a bench,” Zayn continued, “But this place is for kids, innit? There should be something to celebrate each life, even if it was a short one. I got the nurses to tell me about them all.”

Harry swallowed hard. He peered into the greenery and saw that he was looking at a glittering sculpture of a pumpkin, sparkling like a disco ball in the midst of the thorny, rambling roses.

“That one is for a little girl called Amy. Her favourite story was Cinderella.” Zayn said. “If you look closely, there are tiny mice in there, ready to change.”

Harry gasped when he spied them – little silvery critters running amongst the sprawling rose canes. It was truly magical. He could just imagine everything coming to life under the light of a full moon and the swish of a wand - transforming into a majestic carriage and footmen, all ready to take their princess to the ball.

The guys dragged him on then, pointing out Zayn’s other pieces. The next was a percussion wall made of jangling jam-jar lids and tinkling bottle tops, nestling among clematis and sweet-pea climbers. It was dedicated to a boy called Tim, who had loved to make a racket. The kids could now honour his memory by bashing at the wall to make a noise. Harry approved.

There was a mossy “teddy-bears picnic” piece for Ellen, a “fireflies” piece of glinting jewels strung on invisible threads for Asha, a spooky twist of coir in a “Scarey Hairy” corner dedicated to Petey, who always belly-laughed at the idea of monsters. There was a sculpture that was half a cup and half a hat for a girl called Alice, who always thought she was the same as the one in the book, and had many mad-hatter tea-parties in her short life.

The boys wandered onwards and came to the end of the garden where the development plans seemed to have run out. The tended beds rambled into overgrown weeds and a single prickly bush stood against a wall, various snags of rags tangled and fraying on its limbs.

“This is the best thing in the whole garden.” Niall announced proudly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to break into his usual laughter, but instead, Niall stood, gazing steadily ahead, a misty look in his eyes. Harry sought Liam’s assurance then, but Liam too was gazing quietly at the bush. Louis moved forward, reaching for one of the looser pieces of cloth, tying it back around a twig.

“OK,” Harry whined, “someone explain this to me? What’s with this scraggy bush?”

“It’s a tradition from my country,” Niall began.

“Ah the magical land of pixies and fairy-dust, begorrah!” Liam teased. He was rewarded with a fairly intense punch to the ribs.

“Anyway,” Niall continued, “there’s this thing you come across sometimes in the countryside - these rag trees. People believe they have the power to grant wishes and take away problems or illness. You tie a rag around a branch, telling it your wish or prayer, and by the time the rag disintegrates, your wish comes true. 

“When we started to tidy up this garden, I found this hawthorn bush back here and there were already a few scraps of material caught on the thorns. So I was telling the lads about the tradition and we reckoned that is a real rag tree – even if you English fools don’t believe in such things.”

“So, we’ve decided to start the tradition here.” Zayn said, standing at Harry’s shoulder. “We have a feeling it might be a real one, something we need to safeguard. You know, just in case.”

“And,” Niall said quietly at Harry’s shoulder, “Louis wanted this one to be the memorial piece for his sister.”

Harry snapped his head up at that. “Louis’ sister?” he asked.

Louis nodded, turning and looking directly at Harry for the first time all afternoon. “Maisie. She had this little fairy godmother costume she loved, wand and everything. She’d have loved to make wishes come true.”

He didn’t seem to be able to hold Harry’s stricken gaze for very long, and he turned back to the tree, explaining simply. “Cystic fibrosis. It’s ok. It was a long time ago now.”

 

“Boys! Boys!”

They all looked up to see Ellie the nurse, waving at them. The party seemed to be drawing to a close behind her as she trotted over to them, throwing a conspiratorial look behind her shoulder. “Alright boys, so everyone is leaving and you’ll have the place to yourselves. I would recommend that you visit the kitchen now, and open the third cupboard to the right of the sink, where somebody may or may not have hidden away few bottles of wine that we forgot to produce earlier. It would be such a shame to have thirsty students leaving here empty-handed after all they have done for us, wouldn’t it? So I’m expecting to find an empty cupboard when I come in here on Monday.”

She winked theatrically at them and turned to leave – but not before Niall swept her up in a bear hug, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“You are the best of the lot of them, you know that, Ellie, don’t you?” he told her.

She blushed quite pink and shooed him away. “Louis, make sure you lock up, won’t you, dear? And don’t forget the alarm.”

“Well c’mon then, lads” Niall rounded at them, “there’s good alcohol in there, and none of us is getting any younger!”

As the rest of them strolled back to the building, Harry turned back to the rag tree. He slipped the thin silk scarf he had been wearing from his neck, and knotted it gently around one of the branches. He closed his eyes, winding his fingers along the silk, and breathed a whispered wish into the prickly branches, before turning away to follow the group back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rag Trees [Link text](http://www.dochara.com/places-to-visit/rag-trees/)
> 
>  
> 
> I'm watching the boys on Alan Carr as I'm posting this - such darlin's!


	15. An Insurance Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A crazy night brings Harry and Louis together. But that is not necessarily a good thing.**

“The night is young Harry! You are forbidden from ditching us!”

“Yeah! C’mon popstar! Don’t forget us little people who were here for you at the start – come on out with us!” Nick loomed over Harry from behind, squeezing his shoulders and steering him towards the taxi rank.

The wine that Ellie had stashed in the cupboard for them hadn’t lasted very long – she clearly underestimated the quantity of alcohol required by the average twenty-something these days. So, they all decided to visit a nearby pub, phoning a few friends to join them and taking over a quiet corner at the back. To Louis obvious disdain, Nick Grimshaw rocked up first with his usual quiff and dazzling smile, to be followed by a group of girls to whom Zayn quickly attached himself, to Liam’s obvious sadness. Before any of them noticed the time passing though, it was late enough to go dancing and they wandered from the pub, all unwilling for the night to end. 

“I don’t think I can.” Harry protested, trying to wriggle from Nick’s grasp when he started shaking him in exaggerated anger at Harry’s response.

“It’s not Harry’s fault, Nick!” Niall appeared in front of them, reaching to help Harry escape, “We just need to call his guys! You know - his henchmen, his goons! He’s not allowed out without them.”

“Niall, shut up.” Harry groaned. It may have been the truth, but he didn’t need everyone knowing.

“No, no, it’s OK,” Niall reassured, sticking his tongue out at him, “it’s just an insurance thing.” He danced away, swirling around, arms in the air, shouting to the busy night street, full of partying people drifting between pubs and clubs. “Hey! Everyone! Don’t be scared of the big scary men! It’s just an insurance thing!”

It was possible Niall had had too much to drink.

“What’s an insurance thing?” Louis had caught up with them, Sophia and Liam in tow, and he was frowning confusedly at Niall’s outburst. A group of girls with very big hair and very short skirts were now swirling and laughing around Niall, clutching at him, shouting “We’re scared of the scary men! Save us from the scary insurance men!”

Niall grinned happily, gathering them all up in his outstretched arms. “Don’t worry, women! Stick with me and you’ll be grand!”

“Harry has to get special insurance to go dancing, or something,” Nick explained to Louis, nodding seriously as his feet did a little directionless shuffle. “Cause he is a big popstar now.”

“What?!” Louis sneered, “Are you serious?”

“His right ankle alone is worth ONE MILLY-ON DOLLARS!” Nick expanded, eyes widening, clearly enjoying himself.

“No! No,” Harry rushed over, clamping his hand over Nick’s mouth, “Hey Nick, c’mon don’t be …”

“I’m sure there is some VIP bar around here somewhere where we can drop you and your millionaire ankles, Harry. You know, if we aren’t up your usual standards.” Louis smirked.

Liam trotted forward, tapping his phone screen anxiously, “You need a VIP bar? I can phone ahead to … um … let’s see what’s nearby … Oh! Let me call your driver round now – just one sec …”

Louis started cackling loudly “Your driver?! You are serious! For fuck’s sake! Go for it, mate! Go full on diva – show us what it’s like on the other side.”

Harry was glad it was dark, so his blushes couldn’t be seen, as he rushed to Liam’s side, swiping the phone from his hands, “No, no Liam, it’s OK. Don’t call anyone. You’re not working tonight.”

Louis was still laughing loudly when one of the girls who had latched onto Niall suddenly shrieked – “Oh my God! Is that Harry Styles?! It’s Harry Styles! It’s him! I love him!”

Harry dropped his head. Perfect. Of course. Timing was everything in life.

In a whirlwind of screams and flying hair, the girls detached themselves from Niall and surrounded Harry, throwing their arms around him, leaning their heads against his shoulder, various phones hovering in front his face as they pulled at him in turn for selfies. 

Harry kept a smile on his face for the photos, but to his alarm, he could see that the cacophony of excitement had attracted the attention of more people on the street, and various little flashes of light were going off in all directions. The crowd around him grew bigger, and he lost track of Niall and the rest of them.

He allowed himself to be pulled back and forth for photos, keeping a fixed smile on his face and staring ahead into phones. If he could let everyone get one with him, then maybe they’d let him slip away after a few minutes. He felt an arm around him then, rougher than the previous ones, and he turned to find a skinny guy with cropped hair and a hard jawline leaning against him. He could smell alcohol on his breath and hear the guy’s friends guffawing nearby. Harry suppressed a sigh and looked into the guy’s camera, just as he had done all the rest, smiling politely. He had a feeling what was coming next.

“Just so you know,” the guy leered at him, “I think your music’s shit.”

The guy’s friends whooped loudly. One of them flung an empty beer bottle high over Harry’s head. It crashed into the building behind them, glass tinkling down to the pavement. 

“Hey!” a girl’s voice called out, “You wanker! That nearly hit me.”

The guy leaned closer, his mouth hot against Harry’s ear. “But you sure do have pretty hair - I’d let you suck my dick, you fag.”

Someone was pulling on his jacket on his other side then, a pale, blond girl with smeared red lipstick, so drunk she could hardly stand. “Harry, Harry” she drawled, her hands reaching for his face, “I love you so much, Harry. I love you. I love you. I want you so bad, Harry, I -” 

Her sticky fingers were grasping at his neck now, and he tried to lean back from her open lips. He could hear the aggressive taunts from the group of lads nearby, and then another round of high pitched screaming from some girls and then a different firm hand squeezed on his right bicep. He tried to pull away, but then he heard a familiar Irish voice at his side “Excuse me, excuse me ladies, coming through! Harry has to go now.”

Louis appeared suddenly at his other elbow, and Nick was in front of them, using his height and long limbs to plough through the crowd, cheerily calling “Step aside please. Thank you. Move back, now.” Harry grabbed onto the back of Nick’s jacket, keeping as close to him as possible, peeping ahead over his shoulder to see Liam waiting, half-inside the open door of a taxi-van, a terrified expression on his face.

And then, finally, they all made it inside the vehicle, doors slamming against the chaos, and it roared down the street.

Harry looked around at his companion’s faces – Sophia, Nick and Liam in the seats facing him, Niall and Louis at his sides, all pale and shocked-looking, all breathing shakily like they had just finished a race. He felt his own body trembling but rubbed his hands onto his knees in an attempt to conceal it.

“Well anyway,” he tried, smiling brightly at them all.

“Fucking hell, Harry,” Louis was staring dazedly at him. “Being famous is a bit shit, isn’t it?”

Niall chuckled lightly, before leaning forward, punching his arms into the air – “HE LIVES!” he exclaimed, making them all jump in their seats. He rolled the window beside him down, stuck his head and shoulders out the window, roaring at the passing city “He’s alive! He’s still alive, you muckerfuckers!”

“Someone make him stop,” breathed Sophia, looking even paler.

Harry tugged Niall back inside. “Hugs!” he demanded, pulling him in close, “C’mon – you know the drill.”

Niall turned and wrapped himself tightly around Harry, squeezing him so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“We lost Zayn,” Liam muttered sadly, looking out through the back window. Sophia crossed her arms, and tapped her foot in response.

Niall released Harry, and examined the expressions on the faces of his taxi-mates before stretching his arms out wide, calling out “Come on! Everyone in!”

And soon they were all giggling inside the circle of each other’s arms, heads banging together lightly as the taxi rumbled onwards.

 

…

 

They all ended up in Niall’s place because he promised them he could provide brandy to sooth their frayed nerves. But it turned out the brandy was actually his uncle’s neighbour’s cousin’s home-brewed and illegally imported poitín, and it burned their throats and drew tears to their eyes. After just a sip, Sophia abandoned it to curl into an armchair, nursing a bruised knee from the melee earlier (someone in the mob knocked her over in the rush to reach Harry). 

Meanwhile, Nick wandered off down a corridor, muttering, “Quick nap. 5 seconds only. Back soon,” - before he slammed face-down onto the first bed he came across, snoring loudly.

Liam also abandoned his drink to fetch a bag of frozen peas from Niall’s freezer. He wrapped it in a tea-towel and knelt at Sophia’s feet, gently pressing it against her swollen knee, his other hand cupping the smooth skin of her calf. They chatted quietly together, all soft smiles and lingering looks, as Niall sat on his sofa with a guitar, strumming away to himself, eyes closed and humming some melody no one could hear.

Louis was standing at the counter of the kitchen area, overlooking the room, while Harry pottered about behind him, rummaging idly through Niall’s cupboards. Louis forced another sip of poitín down, shuddering at its unpleasantness, but needing the fortification for what inevitable upcoming conversation he would have to politely engage in with Harry, everyone else being occupied. 

“Aw, Liam is so sweet, isn’t he?” Harry was suddenly at Louis’ side, smiling fondly at the pair lost in their own world across the room.

“Sophia is the sweetest, though,” Louis snapped back, defensively. “She’s the best. She is kind and supremely smart, and she works so hard and she’s gorgeous on top of it all.”

Harry just laughed gently. “You’re not in love with her, are you?” 

Louis started – “No! Of course not. I’m not… not into girls. As I thought you might recall?” Louis bit his lip, annoyed with himself. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t be the first to bring up their last encounter. He tried to steer the subject back on course. “Sophia is just my friend. Well not “just” my friend – she’s a great friend. One of my best friends, actually.”

Louis considered that, and wondered if it was really true. There was so much he didn’t share with her. There was Stan too, who knew him the longest, and probably the best, but he didn’t really talk about deep stuff with him either. There was a lot he didn’t share anyone really. But he didn’t want to think about that. Goddammit – his brain was going off on one again. If this continued it would be ceiling contemplation time for him.

“What about you?” he asked Harry, deciding this would be his last ditch attempt at a conversation. 

“What?” Harry looked confused, “Am I into girls?”

“No,” Louis rushed back at him, “who is your best friend?” Then he rolled his eyes at himself, really Louis? That is your conversation starter? What is he – a 5 year old girl?

“Oh,” Harry narrowed his eyes considering, “at the moment, probably Nialler, actually.”

“Oh, hmph,” Louis snorted. “Figures.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“Well, didn’t you just meet him a few months ago? Just before you went away for weeks to the U.S.?”

“So?”

“And now he is your best friend?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Just. That figures.”

“You still haven’t explained yourself. What’s wrong with Niall? He’s great.”

“Sure, of course Niall’s great. He’s a top chap. But don’t you have friends from back home, from when you were a kid?”

“Course I do. It’s just I’m so busy at the moment it’s hard to keep up with everyone, that’s all. Niall’s so easy going. He doesn’t get annoyed if I can’t be around a lot.”

“You don’t think it’s weird though? That you are best friends with someone you have barely spent any time with?”

“No. Sometimes you just click with a person.”

“Right. And sometimes you just use people and ditch them.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Louis’ heart pounded in his chest. This. This was exactly what he had been trying so hard all day long to keep himself from doing. He did NOT want to get into this with Harry. If the guy wasn’t interested, well then, Louis wasn’t going to beg. He could do what he wanted.

However, it seemed that what Harry now wanted was an explanation. He was staring at Louis, eyes widened in confusion.

“What the hell?” Harry exclaimed, “I use people? That’s rich, coming from you! You just disappear on me after we … Well, you lure me into some dungeon room, jump me, and then just disappear? And now you say I’m a user? Wow!” Harry shook his head in disbelief.

Louis frowned. This was confusing.

“Wait – why are you acting like I’m the one who did something wrong? One second you are with me, with like -” Louis dropped his voice to a whisper with an anxious glance in the direction of the others, _“with your dick in my mouth,”_ Louis’ voice returned to a normal level, “and literally two minutes later you are there, asking that girl _[Louis couldn’t bring himself to say her name]_ out on a date! On stage! In front of everyone! Like nothing happened!”

Harry gritted his teeth. “You weren’t supposed to be there! I asked you to wait for me. I wanted to explain first …”

“Oh, I really am not interested in your explanations.”

“It wasn’t what it looked like. It was just part of the performance – "

“Really? So you didn’t go out with her then? For the next three months?”

“I didn’t intend … it wasn’t planned that way …… “

“Look,” Louis took a breath, chanted the word twenty inside his mind (he didn’t have time to count all the way up to it just now), “It really makes no odds to me, kid. You can do what you like, see who you like, shag who you like. The world is your oyster. Enjoy your life, that’s all you need to worry about. It’s clearly all you do worry about.” And he picked up his drink and sauntered over to Niall, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth that had less to do with the noxious alcohol in his glass than the look in Harry’s face right then.


	16. The European Working Time Directive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis wakes up with a hangover and in a very bad mood. Louis in a bad mood has his uses, however.

If he had money for a taxi, Louis wouldn’t have stayed over at Niall’s after the awkwardness with Harry. But he was broke and Harry had disappeared immediately after their conversation, presumably finding somewhere to sleep, and no one complained when Louis stretched out into the cushions of Niall’s sofa, so in the end he crashed there for the night.

“I am in a bad mood today.” He muttered to no one before even opening his eyes the next morning.

The others were pottering about by then. He could hear chatting and laughter and could smell coffee and eggs, and it made his stomach heave. He curled back into himself. He would just stay here, he decided, and keep his eyes closed, with this blanket (wherever it came from) over his body, and just wait for the world to go away and leave him in peace with his pounding head.

After groaning miserably, with increasing volume, for the next 15 minutes without any response from any of the people nearby, Louis finally had to admit defeat and rolled off the sofa. He crawled towards the kitchen area on his hands and knees, collapsing flat onto the floor by the counter, and tapped at Niall’s feet, which were propped on the footrest of a stool, just over Louis’ head.

Niall peered down puzzled, then a grin appeared when he saw the source of the tapping – “Mornin’ Louis! What are you doing down there?”

“Dying,” Louis moaned, “I’m dying, that’s what I’m doing down here. Slowly, painfully, dying.”

“Here,” Niall tossed down a piece of toast, “Have some breakfast. You’ll be grand. Harry made eggs for us.”

Louis pulled the soggy, cold toast off his face as Sophia’s bare feet trotted past him.

“I’ve really got to get going,” she was saying, “I shouldn’t have gone out last night. Essays are due!! I have to study.” 

Her feet suddenly appeared again, scooting back by Louis’ head – this time they were encased inside a pair of shiny heels.

“Harry, come here and give me a hug goodbye, since I don’t know when I’ll see you again!” he heard her say, and then a pair of massive feet appeared, clad in battered brown suede, moved toe to toe to the high heels, “It was fun!” she continued, “Well, mostly dramatic and a bit scary at times, but come back and visit us, yes? Promise?” 

Sophia rose onto her toes, giving Harry a hug, and then both pairs of feet disappeared in opposite directions and Louis heard the front door slam behind her.

Louis supposed he should have left with her but instead he dragged himself slowly, hand over hand, up along a stool, finally getting high enough to sit upright and prop his elbows on the counter. At his side, Niall was slowly shaking his head at him, tutting disdainfully at the performance - “For someone who drinks as much as you do, you really are a drama queen when it comes to hangovers.”

“What, Niall,” Louis’ voice was ragged and broken, “was in that stuff you gave us to drink?”

“The poitín?” Niall’s face was suddenly stormy. “Do not blame your bad head on that! That was the finest, purest distillation, lovingly created by the most skilled craftsmen of my country, from a secret recipe handed down through generations. I will NOT hear a word against it.”

Wow. Don’t insult the Irishman’s alcohol. Duly noted.

Niall’s expression quickly returned to sunny however. “Here,” he said, pushing a cup in Louis direction, “have a coffee and stop whinging.”

“Coffee? Are you trying to make me cry? What is wrong with drinking tea like normal people? A great, big tank of it?” Louis dropped his head onto his arms. He really did think he might cry. 

After a few minutes he heard a quiet tap beside him and swivelled his eyes up to find that a huge, steaming mug of toffee-brown tea had just been placed there. He sat up at the sight, joy surging in his whole body, just in time to see Harry drifting away, his face averted.

Louis felt a twist of something in his guts then which he wasn’t entirely sure he could blame on his hangover. Harry must have just had a shower, his hair was wet and tied up in a bun at the back of his head. It made him seem younger, his eyes bigger and his neck longer – a bambi-esque vulnerability that tugged at Louis’ heart.

And he had just made Louis tea. Strong and with a dash of milk – just the way he liked it. And he hadn’t been able to meet Louis’ eyes. And that was because of what Louis said to him last night. And Louis wished he could plunge himself into the mug of tea and drown himself right there. 

He was never drinking poitín again.

 

By the time Louis downed the tea, Nick and Harry were pulling on their jackets, making loose promises to meet up again whenever they could, and Liam was scrambling around trying to find his phone which had started ringing somewhere in the living room. Louis guessed he should be leaving too, and he went to retrieve his shoes from the hallway where he had kicked them off the night before.  
By the time he returned, now searching for his jacket, the atmosphere in the room seemed to have shifted. Liam was guiltily biting at his thumbnail, while Niall was leaning in the doorway, arms folded, looking thunderous.

“Stacey, can’t we work something out?” Harry was pleading into the phone, “I know Simon wants me to, but I can’t this time, I just can’t.”

Louis raised a questioning eyebrow at Niall, who just shook his head, glowering. 

“Well, let me speak to Simon directly, then. Please?”

Harry went to sit on the sofa, staring at the phone. His face had paled, and Louis thought there seemed to be a catch in his breathing.

“Anything we can do?” asked Niall.

Harry grimly shook his head, and within a minute, the tone of a Facetime call rang through.

Louis could see a scowling, dark-eyed face appear on the screen when Harry pressed the answer button. The man began speaking instantly in a scathing tone that cut to the marrow of Louis’ bones.

“Harry, I don’t have time for this. I have other artists to manage – I can do without the hysteria from someone who hasn’t even earned enough to pay back our initial investment yet. Make me some money and then we can talk about cutting media coverage. Stacey’s lined up a great interview for you and a red carpet at the new Club opening that other people are fighting to get into. Just do what you are told like a good boy, and stop making a nuisance of yourself.”

Hysteria? Louis thought. Harry hadn’t even spoken and he was being accused of being hysterical? What was with this guy? 

“Simon, please. You know I really try to do everything you guys ask, but I just can’t today. It’s my Mum…”

“Everything we ask? You’ve got to be kidding, Harry! What about that charity thing yesterday? Oh yes, Stacey told me all about it – a golden opportunity, but you refused. And you were a no-show at our industry party last night. So I don’t want to hear any more about it. Get to our offices and stop being a brat.”

“But she’s coming down from Cheshire especially to meet me today because there hasn’t been time for me to go home. She’s already on her way –– I can’t cancel. She hasn’t seen me in three months! And I’m back to the States the day after tomorrow for the West Coast promo stuff – this will be my last chance to see her.”

His mother? Louis thought - no way. You don’t mess around people’s mothers! Especially not the mothers of people who make other people perfect mugs of tea, even when those other people might have been snarky with them the night before when they were drunk and in a bad mood and unaware they would regret it a lot the next morning.

He threw himself down beside Harry before even thinking about it.

“Hello. Sorry to interrupt. I’m Louis, I hope you are well today,” he began, because _his_ mother had raised him to have good manners, and he wanted this Simon guy to know that – because now it was likely he was about to get very rude indeed.

“Louis! No!” Harry whispered frantically.

Louis placed a leg over Harry’s thigh to stop him pushing him away and then reached for the phone, tilting it towards him so he could get a good look at this Simon toad.

“Now,” Louis launched, “As Harry here has just made clear to you, Simon, he has an unbreakable family commitment today and will be unable to acquiesce to your last-minute and unscheduled intrusions into his personal time. He’s sorry but that’s just how it is going to be. Any future arrangements would be best made and cleared with him in advance to avoid further disappointment.”

Harry had frozen beside him. Louis couldn’t even feel him breathing. He hoped he hadn’t died right there on the spot. That would be awkward.

Simon also seemed frozen in place. But then he raised his eyebrows sardonically, “Hello… Louis, was it?”

Louis nodded, smiling calmly. 

“Would you happen to be the Louis Tomlinson behind those singer-songwriter nights Liam has been gabbing on about?”

Now Louis froze for a moment, surprised. He nodded slowly, thrown a bit.

“Well, I gather they are very successful.” Simon continued. “We’ve been talking about you here in Syco. You might like to pop in to us sometime for a little chat. We’re always interested in getting to know new talent – whether that’s on the performance or management side of things.”

Wow … this was … unexpected. They had been talking about him? They thought he was new talent? 

Simon was continuing to talk. “Now Louis, I’m sure Harry is grateful for your friendly support, but there are certain things you may not understand about the workings of the business. Your friend here is at a critical stage in his career right now, it is literally make or break. He needs to trust our team and do what is asked. We’d be happy to talk you through it when you call in. We’ll get Liam to set something up ... I think he has your number?”

Louis nodded dumbly.

“Great. We’ll try to sit down in the next week or two. Right, then. That’s everything. We’ll see you here at 2 Harry.”

“WAIT!”

Louis’ shout caused Harry to flinch beside him. His own heart pounded in his chest. Damn – this Simon was good – Louis had almost been flattered into forgetting his goal. 

“Simon, Harry won’t be attending today. He told you. He has promised to meet his Mum.” Louis voice was low and steady. He was proud of that. Because he sort of felt like he might bawl in a minute.  
A flicker of anger crossed Simon’s eyes, and Louis’ blood ran cold. No, he resolved, he would not be intimidated.

“I’m sure the interviews can be rearranged Simon. Harry can make himself available another time to do them.”

Harry nodded, but dropped his head hopelessly.

“And actually, with the exception of one or two evenings, I believe Harry has always been available to you guys.” Louis continued, heart pounding. This was a long shot. “He has worked all day, every day since he signed with you, isn’t that correct?” Harry nodded again, looking miserable. “And I just think that there is a little thing you might need to familiarise yourself with, Simon, called the _European Working Time Directive_?”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. He suddenly looked furious.

“I think you will find that it is a European-wide piece of binding legislation that outlines very clear limits to the number of hours an employee can work within a certain timeframes.”

“Louis, Harry isn’t an employee of Syco. We are a contracted agency for him. The Directive doesn’t apply.”

“Maybe so. But I believe Liam is a Syco employee.”

In the corner of the room, where he had been waiting slumped against the wall, Liam suddenly scrambled to his feet, walking over to Louis behind the phone where Simon couldn’t see him. He was frantically waving his hands at him, gesturing – no! no! no!

Louis ignored him and continued - “I believe Liam has been Harry’s liaison point with Syco and has therefore been on hand with him for every moment he has worked for the last few months, yes? Regardless of what time zone he has been in. And, on top of that he has been out with me scoping for talent on numerous late nights. And then he is in the office the next morning, filing reports and doing paperwork. The man is dedicated! Dedicated and clearly exploited. And Syco is clearly in breach of legislative restrictions and I think you may want to reconsider the demands you are putting on your employees before any Health & Safety Inspectors suddenly take an interest in your company.”

A brittle silence descended as everyone froze, waiting to see how Simon might respond. Louis knew he was playing a dangerous game, and decided to introduce his trump card – a little sweetener to make it easier for Simon to save face.

“But, Simon, apart from all that I was thinking that maybe we can offer something in place of the Club opening pictures – something more likely to get a lot more traction. I happen to have a really nice video of Harry singing to a little girl at the charity event yesterday –– it’s sweet and cute and it’s social media gold. And I’m sure I can persuade the little girl’s mother to let me post it online. So if it is media coverage you need, this is worth lots more than some boring red-carpet posing.”

Simon leaned back. Louis could nearly swear he saw a glimmer of a smile playing on the edge of his lips. He tried to swallow down the guilt he felt at bargaining Susie like this. But he knew she would be on board – she had loved Harry yesterday. She’d be happy to help him see his mother.

Eventually, Simon spoke. “All right. I can’t waste any more time on this. Harry, have a nice time with your mother today. Give her my best regards.”

Harry’s head flipped up in shock. Louis squeezed his leg, in secret delight, while keeping his face blank in front of Simon.

Harry grabbed the phone back from him. “Thanks Simon, seriously! I’ll make it up to Stacey, I promise.”

“Yes you will” Simon replied, “…and Louis?”

Louis swung the phone towards him again, suddenly terrified.

“Nice negotiation. Get Liam to set up that meeting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the first time European employment legislation has featured as a plot device in a piece of fan fiction? I apologise. It won't happen again. :-D
> 
> So some background on everyone, that I haven't been able to work into the story so far - I'm thinking Louis is studying some kind of business degree in this, so he knows about things like employment regulations and project management etc. Sophia is on the same course as him - that's how they know each other. Stan is a full-time barman with plans to open his own Club somewhere sunny eventually. I think I mentioned Zayn is studying graphic design but he hates it and really just wants to be an artist. Harry refused to go to university - to his parents concern - and was doing various random part-time jobs while playing in pubs and clubs before getting signed.  
> I can't decide what Niall is studying ... something kinda random probably like Classics ... any ideas?


	17. A Luminescent Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party brings Harry and Louis back together - it goes glowingly well...

_One Month Later…._

Louis had been determined to get a project for his Human Resource Management class out of the way before Zayn’s party that night, but when he checked the time on finishing, he saw it was nearly midnight. He was considering not going out at all but then remembered that he was having a particularly good hair day, and it would have been a loss to all humanity if no one got to see it. He quickly showered and flung a tailored jacket over his best tight black jeans and t-shirt and left his flat before he could change his mind.

Twenty minutes later he walked briskly along in the dark, cursing Zayn for living so far away from a bus stop, when the headlamps of a car swung up behind him and a sharp wolf-whistle echoed out along the empty street.

“Hey sweet-cheeks! Nice ass!”

Louis hunched his shoulders and kept walking, suddenly feeling very alone in the night, when he heard a second deep voice shouting, “Niall! Stop! You’re scaring him.” 

He turned to find two smiling faces cackling at him through the open windows of a very battered and rusty old Honda Civic, pulled up to the kerb just behind him.

“Sorry Louieeeee!” Niall pouted at him, leaning across Harry to shout out the window, “Somebody here was just admiring the view, and I felt I should pass along the compliment.”

Harry placed his large hand smack across Niall’s face then, pushing him back to his own side of the car, saying, “Ignore him. He’s not well. We all know it.”

“So, where did you steal this from?” Louis asked, sauntering over to the car, deciding to ignore the tornado of different emotions the last few seconds had wrought.

“Oh, this is Matilda - me cousin’s piece of crap.” Niall explained, “Harry’s staying across town tonight so I needed to borrow some wheels to drag him out to the party.”

“Yeah, that’s the real reason we’re in this thing,” Harry rolled his eyes, “your altruism truly knows no bounds.”

Then Harry was opening the door and clambering out, popping upright close to Louis.

“Hi Louis.” he smiled down at him.

“Hi.” Louis answered breathlessly, caught up in the way the moonlight gleamed in Harry’s eyes.

Then Harry was gone again, flipping the front seat forward, squeezing back into the car, and folding up his long limbs to fit into the small back seat. Niall slammed the front seat back into place again and patted it invitingly “So, come on then, hop in!”

Louis hesitated for just a second, before sitting in, keeping himself rigidly facing forward and trying very hard not to think too much about the way Harry’s face came so close to his when he leaned forward between the two front seats.

“So, why are you picking up Harry in this piece of junk when he has a driver at his beck and call, from what I remember?” Louis hoped conversation might settle the cloud of suicidal butterflies who were battering themselves to death inside his stomach. But he had to relinquish that hope when a puff of Harry’s warm breath ghosted on his neck as Harry turned to him and laughed.

“Oh, so you think I should rock up to a student party in a chauffeur driven Merc? It’s funny, some people in the recent past have given me a hard time about things like that.”

Louis turned to look at the city passing by outside the window, trying to ignore the burning feeling rising on his own cheeks.

“But the truth is,” Harry continued, “Niall here had a big plan to cause a scene in Mayfair tonight.”

Niall sighed sadly beside him. “It was all so disappointing, in the end.”

Louis found himself laughing as the two went into great detail about Niall’s fantasy of sparking some kind of class revolution by pulling up to collect Harry from the Dorchester hotel in his cousin’s wreck of car, whereupon they would no doubt be immediately scorned and banished, giving Niall the opportunity to launch into a heavily revised version of the Braveheart speech. (“You may take our lives, but you will never take our Hondas! That kind of thing.”)

The plan had all fallen apart however, when Niall had been warmly and politely greeted by the doorman, and a valet had swept Matilda away to underground parking without even blinking.

“It was terrible. They were so very nice and polite,” Niall whined, “I even ended up over-tipping and giving them all my notes and now I’m smashed for the rest of the weekend.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty classy place.” Harry agreed, as Louis wiped away his tears of laughter.

 

Zayn’s tiny flat was dim and thumping with music, when they arrived shortly after. The central living space was crowded with dancers, and after giving his eyes a few seconds to adjust, Louis realised that most of the people were at various stages of undress, and bare limbs and torsos swayed and bobbed about in the half-light.

“Um, what kind of party is this exactly?” Niall was asking beside him, as an excited looking Harry laughed giddily and clapped his hands.

“Oh God, now Harry, just wait a second. This may NOT be good idea,” he continued as Harry pushed past, smiling cheekily over his shoulder. 

He pulled his shirt from his body, calling back over the music “If Liam’s getting naked, I am too!”

Over in the corner of the room, Louis then saw Liam, standing in just his boxer briefs and blearily smiling down at Zayn as he drew long strokes of a highlighter pen across Liam’s body. Zayn was also shirtless and his eyes were heavy-lidded. He looked up surprised as Harry launched himself at them, calling “Do me too, do me!”

Zayn grinned and danced his pens across Harry’s chest and stomach, stopping only when Liam reached for him again, pulling at his elbow until Zayn staggered back against him. Zayn then leaned into Liam, his head resting on Liam’s shoulder, head bowed, his thick, black lashes lowered across his cheeks. He ran his fingers over Liam’s sculpted shoulder muscles, finally drifting light touches over Liam’s biceps.

“Did we do here, yet?” he asked Liam, lazily, running his fingers up and down Liam’s arms “can’t remember.”

“Don’t remember either. Get the light.” Liam slurred. “Let’s see.”

“Oh fuck,” Niall moaned beside Louis, hammering his forehead into Louis’ shoulder, “I really need to get drunk now. And fast. Everyone’s going to hell and I don’t want to be sober when we get there.”  
Zayn staggered across the room, lighting a cigarette as he went, and reappeared with a long light bulb in his hand. 

“All right people,” he announced, “are you ready for this?”

The crowd yelled and someone on the decks dropped a pounding baseline just as Zayn switched on the black light and suddenly all the half-naked dancers blazed into a luminous glow of colour, their bodies carrying the neon patterns of Zayn’s designs.

Louis couldn’t help chuckling as he watched Harry sway through the crowd wearing just his skinny jeans, a huge fluorescent pink heart illuminated on his chest. Zayn had also coloured in his tattoos – so the butterfly and swallows on the front of his torso fluttered brightly in the darkness.

Louis watched that pink heart bop happily for a few moments, before it drew in towards him, growing bigger as it came closer.

He watched Harry hold out a hand and pull him forwards into the crush of heaving bodies.

“Come on, Louis” Harry’s lips moved close to his ear, “join in.”

Louis allowed himself to be guided forward. Harry turned and moved behind Louis, lightly leaning into his back, resting his hands on his hips, swaying him gently to the music. Harry then reached his bare arms in front of Louis and crossed them over, grasped Louis’ hands and he pulled upwards, twirling Louis around to face him.

Louis couldn’t help laughing. “So smooth!” he told him, and Harry grinned back, entwining their fingers, pulling him in closer. Louis found himself looking up into Harry’s face. He moistened his lips, feeling the warmth of Harry’s skin radiating on them.

But then Niall’s voice tugged them back from the dreamlike incandescence of the scene around him.

“Louis! Harry! Fucksake – don’t leave me to deal with this on my own. They have no clothes on!”

They turned to see Niall flapping anxiously, pointing at something happening in the opposite side of the room.

Zayn now had an arm draped loosely over Liam’s shoulder, hanging down over his chest, a bottle of beer in his hand. He was talking to someone else nearby, laughing and blowing smoke up towards the ceiling, staggering slightly with every puff. He distractedly tugged Liam closer to him every now and then before returning to his conversation. All the time, Liam was quietly gazing at Zayn’s face, his bottom lip caught in his teeth.

“Niall – what’s the problem?” Louis shouted at him over the music, “Let them go for it, if that’s what they want.”

“But it’s Liam,” Niall cried back to them. “And he’s so out of it. Anyone else I wouldn’t be concerned but … our baby Liam? With Zayn? What about his heart?”

Louis and Harry glanced at each other briefly. Harry frowned and turned to watch what was going on in the corner for a few moments, before nodding in agreement.

“What do you want us to do?” Louis shouted over the music.

“Something!” Niall cried, “Anything!”

“Ok, ok!” Harry said, “I’ll do it. I’m stepping up.”

He wriggled through the throngs and danced over to Liam and Zayn. They both smiled at him hazily and Louis could only laugh in admiration as Harry pulled them forward to dance with him, then grooved and swayed his lanky body between them, so subtlety they didn’t even notice, until Harry was wedged between them, his hands on Liam’s back and gently pushing Zayn backwards so he was no longer touching Liam. 

The loss of contact seemed to break whatever spell Liam had been under and he straightened up, blinking confusedly.

Then he straightened ever further, standing ramrod to attention as a tall, slim girl in a skin-tight dress walked up to him, her long, straight hair streaming behind her, her body sashaying sexily with each high-heeled step.

It took at least two minutes for Louis to realise it was Sophia. She came to a stop in front of Liam, one hand on her hip, one toned thigh peeping provocatively through a slit on her skirt, her painted red lips pouting.

“Hi Liam,” Sophia purred, “dance with me?”

Liam’s face stretched into a dazzled smile, his eyes drinking in Sophia. Harry looked questioningly at Louis across the room, who could only shrug back in confusion at him. Where had Niall got to? What were his instructions about this turn of events?

Louis saw Harry react to the next thing that happened just one split second before he himself realised what was going on.

Liam seemed to be about to take a step forward towards Sophia, when his body convulsed very slightly, and he stopped. Then he pitched forward again, raising a hand to his mouth.

Harry pulled a nearby plant out of its container and placed the empty pot in front of Liam’s face just in the nick of time, as Liam hurled up the liquid contents of his stomach.

There was a general groan of disgust from people in the general vicinity, and Louis himself grimaced but resigned himself to doing the right thing and went to help, shepherding a moaning Liam into the bathroom with Harry running alongside, strategically positioning the pot in front of Liam’s mouth, ready for further mishaps.

It took a lot of work to get a slack-limbed and still occasionally retching Liam back into his clothes, but Louis and Harry managed it. Though, Louis eventually had to ask a giggling Harry to drop the baby-talk because it was making him feel like he was going to puke too ( _“Where’s your little handie gone Liam? Where’s it gone? Oh! Look! Here it is – out the sleevie it comes!”_ )

Sophia was waiting for them by the front door of Zayn’s flat, all her sexiness now hidden away inside a buttoned up coat.

“I was about to call a taxi – thought we might as well share,” she huffed, nodding at Liam, “Someone needs to get him home.”

Liam shuffled towards her, mumbling “Sophia, you soooo beautiful tonight. Dance now. Let’s do the dance.”

She twisted out of his grasp, and Louis reached to drag him back from her.

“Sorry Sophia,” Harry was saying to her, “I’ve never seen him like this before. I think he might have smoked some weed – he doesn’t usually. I think it doesn’t agree with him.”

“It’s Zayn,” Sophia shaking her head sadly, “He makes him crazy. Can we just go?”

After they ascertained that Niall was too busy swirling a neon-painted girl around the floor to leave, they headed out into the night. Unfortunately, once outside, the cold air seemed to hit Liam hard, and he rushed away from them to quickly vomit again behind some hedging.

“Poor Liam,” Harry sighed, standing beside Louis while they waited for him to finish.

“Poor Sophia,” Louis sighed, watching as she eventually went to pat Liam’s back and hand him a tissue to wipe his mouth.

“You ever get crazy like that over someone?” Harry asked him after a few moments, a little smirk bringing the dimples to his face. “You know? Maybe drink too much and do things you wouldn’t normally do?”

Louis tried to control his facial expression. He shrugged slightly, and decided to just roll with it. “I might have,” he told Harry, looking levelly into his eyes. “Once or twice.”

Harry nodded, smiling in satisfaction to himself, “Yeah, it can happen.” He agreed.

They smiled at each other and drifted after Sophia and Liam, who were now walking hand-in-hand in front of them.

“You know,” Harry continued, “I’ve had your number for ages –– since the night we all crashed at Niall’s? Got it from Liam. I wanted to text you to say thanks for helping me out with Simon that morning.”

“Oh,” Louis, rubbed at the back of his head, “That’s ok. It wasn’t a big deal.”

They walked on for a while, before Louis pondered what Harry had said. “So, why didn’t you then? Text me? If you had my number?”

Harry looked down and eventually said, “I guess I was afraid you might tell me to fuck off. I know I really pissed you off before, with what happened and … well … I suppose I can be a bit conflict-avoidant.” He laughed softly.

Louis cleared his throat. “Hey actually … I should maybe apologise to you about that. I was … rude, I know. It wasn’t as if you owed me anything. I didn’t have any right to say what I did.”

“No, no,” Harry shook his head, “I was completely in the wrong. Everything got messed up. I would have explained if there was time, but …… you know how it went. I would never have wanted you to think that I wasn’t interested, or that I wasn’t coming back to you. I really couldn’t even think about doing anything else for the whole time I was singing. And nothing happened between me and Taylor until weeks later. Just so you know. Actually,” Harry took a shaky breath, and then just nodded as though reaching agreement with himself, “actually, I’ve been thinking about you a lot ever since… ”

“Oh.” Louis replied quietly, taking it all in.

“I should have maybe tried harder to find you, when I came off stage. It’s just, when you weren’t there, I leapt to the wrong conclusions about you.”

Louis took a few more steps in silence, then smirked at Harry, “So you don’t think I lured you to into a dungeon just to jump you?”

“Oh! No, Louis,” Harry laughed loudly, before squinting in amusement at Louis, “Don’t get me wrong here, I one hundred percent believe you lured me into a dungeon just to jump me. I just kinda regret I didn’t get the chance to return the favour.”

Louis watched a taxi pull up ahead of them, in response to Sophia’s raised hand. She turned to wave Harry and Louis forward, then pushed Liam inside and clambered after him. Harry was starting to trot towards the car, when he stopped suddenly, brought up by Louis’ hand grasping his elbow and tugging him back. 

“So, what if –“ Louis started, his eyes searching the ground for a moment, before he summoned the courage to raise them again, and peered into Harry’s, “What if I said, it’s not too late? To return the favour? If you’d like to …”

Harry nodded slowly, a small smile playing on his lips. His voice was quietly gruff when he spoke again. “I would like that … very much.”

Louis’ hand slid down from Harry’s elbow until he was able to press their palms together. Their fingers entwined and they held each other’s gaze for so long that Sophia must have realised what was going on, and the taxi drove away, leaving them standing face to face on the quiet, dark street. 

And then … they moved closer, their lips gently meeting, tenderly sealing an unspoken promise to each other.


	18. Shenanigans in the Dorchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry ... properly alone together for the first time. Um ... contains scenes of a sexual nature.

Louis followed Harry into the hotel room, trying to get a grip. They hadn’t really spoken in the taxi on the way over, unless you counted the wordless messages conveyed in their shared lingering glances and interlinked fingers. Louis felt floaty and unfocussed for the whole journey here, but there was something about walking through the marble lobby under the gaze of the doormen (who were indeed welcoming and polite), and standing quietly behind a bell-boy inside the lift that brought Louis back to a self-conscious nervousness.

Harry slipped out of his jacket as soon as he got into the room, and helped Louis out of his, hanging them neatly in the wardrobe. Then he stepped back and ran his fingers through his long hair. Louis suddenly realised he was nervous too, and it made him laugh out loud.

“What?” Harry asked, looking even more worried now, glancing down at his body. “I don’t have any of Liam’s sick on me do I?”

Louis shook his head, continuing to chuckle. “Do you realise you spent two hours tonight traveling over and back across London, just to spend a grand total of 15 minutes at a party? We didn’t even get a drink!”

Harry grinned, “Yeah, but I got you though. So …”

Louis’ eyebrows raised, but couldn’t stop himself from returning the smirk. “Suppose it wasn’t a completely pointless exercise then.”

“Yeah, it all works out. Um,” Harry looked around the room, “so, would you like a drink then? There was a bottle of champagne left here when I arrived? I’m not going to because I have to be up in ….” Harry glanced over at the clock on the chinoiserie sideboard. “Shit! Really?! Three hours? I have to be up in three hours.”

“Oh?” Louis questioned, “That isn’t a lot of a lot of time.” He moved further into the small sitting room, taking in the dark wood furniture and plush velvet fabrics in aubergine and moss. He felt like he should have taken off his shoes. The door leading into the bedroom was ajar and he could see a vase of creamy roses on a bedside table.

Harry wandered over and stood in front of Louis for another few minutes, head tilted as though appraising him, and Louis wished there was a switch you could flick to remove awkwardness from these types of situations.

Harry bit a smile back, running amused eyes up and down Louis’ body. “I keep trying to work up to just flinging myself on top of you - the way you did to me that time before, cos that was really hot, but I’m worried I’ll knock you over.”

“What?!” Louis spluttered.

Harry laughed, “Well I am taller than you? Although, you do look fairly sturdy. Good, firm thighs there. Well done you. Do you reckon you could handle me? Maybe you should move over in front of the bed, so you can fall back on it if you need to.”

Louis rolled his eyes, “I don’t actually believe this conversation.”

“Yeah, it’s not even slightly sexy, is it?” Harry grinned, seemingly delighted with himself. “All right then. Brace yourself! I’m going for it.”

“Wait, what?” Louis laughed, backing away from Harry as he leaned forward threateningly, fists clenched and elbows benched and rocking back and forth on his feet.

“I’m coming at ya, Lou! Watch out!” Harry launched himself at Louis in a running jump, and, as predicted, Louis was knocked into reverse from the force, staggering backwards as Harry’s body sledgehammered into him. Louis’ legs hit the bed behind him and he collapsed back onto it, the heavy weight of Harry tall body knocking the air from his lungs as they fell together, and then Louis was buried in woodsy scent and soft fabric, gasping for air as he giggled into Harry’s chest.

After a few seconds, Harry pulled away, brushing Louis’ hair back from his forehead, and stroking his face tenderly. “You OK, Lou? Did I kill you?”

“Yes!” Louis laughed.

“Aw! I’m so sad. I will mourn you forever. But! Can’t dwell on the negative! Moving onwards and all that…Now what will I do with the body?” Harry mused.

“Oh my God, are you ten years old?” Louis giggled. 

“I hope not!” Harry told him, tapping on Louis’ nose, “or else YOU are in a LOT of trouble.”

“Now,” Harry said, sitting upright on top of Louis’ thighs and reaching forwards to slowly drag Louis’ shirt up and over his head. “Back to what I’m going to do with this body of yours.”

“I might have some thoughts on that,” Louis told him, leaning back on his elbows to watch as Harry slipped out of his own silky shirt.

“Oh yes?” Harry said, “would those thoughts include anything to do with these audacious thighs of yours?”

“My thighs? Really? It’s usually my bum that gets all the compliments.”

“Is that so? Well maybe I need to take a better look, so…” Harry reached to unbutton Louis and then slid off his legs to stand at the foot of the bed. He then gently tugged at Louis’ jeans, dragging them down his legs before leaning down again and rolling Louis over onto his front. Louis propped himself up on his elbows to look over his shoulder, watching Harry pull his own jeans off, and couldn’t help giggling again at Harry’s studious expression as he considered Louis’ body. 

“It is a very good bum,” Harry told him, when they were both in their underwear and Harry was sitting back up on the bed beside him. He ran his hands along the back of Louis’ legs and over his buttocks, massaging gentle circles into the flesh there. “But you know, I wouldn’t like the other parts of your body to feel overlooked. Like,” His fingertips trailed lightly along Louis’ spine, “these vertebrae here are really equally deserving of attention.”

Louis shivered in pleasure and Harry dropped light, hot kisses along each of the bones of his spine, gently working his way along, murmuring compliments as he went.

Louis sank into the mattress when Harry’s fingers replaced his mouth, spread wide to knead into the muscles of Louis’ back and his shoulders. 

“And God, these arms are gorgeous, Lou.” Harry ran his hands down from Louis shoulders to caress his upper arms. “They are definitely among my favourites.” His kisses fell now from the nape of Louis’ neck, along the top of his left shoulder and down over his tricep.

Harry suddenly grasped at Louis left wrist and pulled his arm up straight to stretch it out above Louis’ head. His fingers traced the inked designs on Louis’ bicep, and then he moved to sit astride Louis’ back, his weight resting on the back of Louis’ hips. He bent forward to continue kissing Louis’ arm, whispering roughly, “But don’t ever let me neglect the inside of this elbow, Louis. This elbow is very, very special.” And Louis never knew before that the inside of an elbow was an erogenous zone, but his whole body convulsed in pleasure, his dick swelling hard into the mattress beneath him when Harry leaned down to kiss and lick and suck there.

Harry continued like this, turning and bending and stretching every part of Louis, examining every inch of his bare skin, complimenting and worshipping as he went. He rolled him over and back on the bed, Louis weakly compliant the whole time, sometimes laughing lightly when Harry said something particularly ridiculous, but more often gasping for air as Harry’s mouth worked against his skin, sending tingling reverberations of bliss across his body.

He didn’t know how long it had been going on for, but it felt like hours and hours, when he found himself begging and writhing on his back on the mattress, his hips thrusting involuntarily upwards, uselessly seeking some kind of friction, as Harry licked and mouthed at Louis’ thighs. 

“Please Harry, I can’t take any more of this …. Too much already…” he groaned, and Harry grinned wickedly, moving down to hook his fingers into the sides of Louis’ pants and slowly pulling them down to free Louis’ leaking, hard cock. Louis was so turned on, he feared he wouldn’t last, grabbing tightly onto the base of his dick in an effort to gain some measure of control.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Harry murmured, gently entangling his fingers and pulling Louis’ hand away, “no touching, Lou. That’s my job.”

And he replaced his Louis’ hand with his own, before leaning down to lick slowly and broadly along the underside of Louis’ dick.It wrenched a loud moan from Louis and some part of him wanted to hold back, to keep hidden some of what he was feeling so he bit hard on the back of his own hand in an attempt to silence himself, even as his neck arched involuntarily and his other hand twisted tight fistfuls of the sheet beneath him.

The noises Louis heard coming from his own throat as Harry’s mouth slipped hotly along his length sounded like a betrayal but he couldn’t restrain himself, groans wrenched from deep inside him as Harry’s tight lips worked up and down, his hand complimenting his bobbing head, his tongue flicking electric sensations that shuddered out across Louis’ whole body. But it was only when Harry looked up and met Louis eyes, cheeks hollowed and eyes shining too brightly, that Louis fully surrendered and he came hard and throat-rippingly loudly, a white heat knocking him into oblivion as the waves of his orgasm coursed through him.

When he opened his eyes, he found Harry kneeling over him, slowly stroking his own erection, eyelids heavy over those darkly glimmering eyes, his lips puffy and red.

“Louis,” he breathed, looking down on him “you are so, so beautiful,” and Louis thought he might die right there.

Their mouths met, Louis sitting up and raking his fingers through Harry’s now-damp hair, tongues lapping, sweat-slicked limbs sliding over each other. And in that moment, Harry was all there was, his firm body the only solidity in this formless space of sensation and heat, his mouth the only source of nourishment, his hands the only threat to Louis’ containment. And even in the intensity of it all, Louis suddenly felt a tremor of nerves coursing through him. Because all this was too much, he could feel himself getting lost in this, and it was terrifying.

Harry’s hands danced burning traces along the skin of Louis’ back, his fingers drifted lightly down over his bum, circling, probing deeper, and Louis jerked, detaching his lips from Harry’s, a sharp inhale hissing past his teeth. Harry’s hands stilled.

“Is this OK, babe?” His voice was wrecked, coarse and low in his throat.

Louis inhaled again, shakily, “I don’t … it’s been a while, is it ok if we don’t…?”

Harry caught his breath tightly. “No, of course, of course,” he said, dropping the condom he had reached for from the bedside locker, leaning back into Louis and gathering his face in his hands. “Whatever you want.” He pressed gentle kisses onto Louis’ cheeks, whispering, “Sorry. You’re amazing. This is amazing.”

They kissed for a while, and Louis eventually found himself lying on his side, with Harry lying stretched lengthwise along beside him. Harry reached for a pillow and placed it in under Louis’ head, smiling gently at him, and the coolness of the fabric against his skin brought brought the physical world back into existence and Louis felt steadier, his pulse slowing back to a more bearable rate.

“Hey,” Louis smiled at him, “you still fond of my thighs?”

Harry grinned back, nodding, with his bottom lip held in his teeth.

Louis looked over at the locker and saw the small bottle of lube there. He reached for it, holding Harry firm against him with his other hand. He held the bottle up to Harry, smacking a brief light kiss to his chin. “Go for it,” he told him.

Harry wriggled up and spilled some of the lube into his palm before slicking himself up, a deep throated groan escaping from him at the sensation. He then gripped Louis’ hips and pushed his hard dick between Louis’ thighs, slipping it through the snug space there as Louis crossed his ankles to help keep his legs pressed tightly together.

Harry thrust at an ever increasing pace, panting hotly into Louis’ mouth, running his dick so close Louis’ balls and perineum that Louis felt himself getting hard again, his dick pressing into Harry’s stomach with each thrust. Louis’s hands wandered over Harry’s skin, squeezing his bum, and Harry moaned and gasped as he continued to buck into Louis, biting hard at his shoulder every now and then. He buried his face into the crook of Louis’ neck, wrapping his leg around Louis and rucking against him even harder.

Louis flexed his thigh muscles and reached behind him to where Harry’s dick popped through the other side of his thighs with each thrust, and let his fingers brush against the wet head. It sent Harry over the edge, a series of whole body shudders wracking through him as he came in loud waves of pleasure, over and over.

“Oh God, Louis,” he panted, “You’re so perfect, babe.”

Louis caught his bleary face in his hand and kissed him sloppily. Harry fumbled for him and tugged Louis into a second, unexpected orgasm, and he covered Harry’s front in white stripes of his come.  
They slowly came to their senses together, breathing heavily, pressing loose wet kisses onto each others’ faces.

“God that was…” Louis drifted off, still feeling hazy and unreal.

“Your body is fucking amazing,” Harry told him, still kissing him, stroking his skin, nuzzling into him. “I don’t ever want to stop touching you.”

“OK then,” Louis breathed.

After a few minutes, Harry fetched a damp washcloth from the bathroom and returned to wipe Louis clean of their sticky mess, his tongue following the path of the warm cloth, while Louis floated off into something that was like sleep, but felt more like some kind of narcotic trance.

 

…..

 

Louis didn’t know how long he was out, but the music invaded his dreams for a while before wakefulness overtook him.

He slowly sat up in the dark room slowly becoming aware of the empty space in the bed beside him and the way his body felt strangely both tetherless and tranquil. He tried to find the source of the resonating chords that seemed to be hovering around the room, and eventually noticed a stripe of light coming from underneath the door of what must have been the bathroom.

He listened for a while, only barely grasping a few quiet notes of Harry’s voice floating over the gentle guitar chords. He edged his way off the bed, wrapping one of the loose sheets around his body, stepping gingerly towards the bathroom door.

He tapped lightly on it before pushing it open.

Harry blinked unfocusedly at Louis from where he was sitting on the marble tiles, then smiled warmly. He was naked behind the guitar in his lap, leaning against the bathtub, a notebook covered in scribbles open on the floor in front of him. And his bare limbs seemed so long and pale and slender and he looked so beautiful and young and open that Louis thought of paintings of angels and ancient Greek statues and bit his lip to keep from gasping.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, “I was trying to be quiet.”

Louis smiled back at him, leaning against the doorframe. “Inspiration struck, then?”

Harry nodded, looking half embarrassed and half pleased. “I just find if I don’t get something down straight away, then the idea never seems to comes back.”

“You caught it now?” Louis asked, a small yawn escaping from the back of his throat.

“Think so,” Harry said, looking at the notebook, “think it might be a good one.”

“Gonna sing it to me?”

Harry looked down and shook his head. “Nah, it’s not ready for that yet.”

“So, can you come back to bed?” Louis asked, holding hand out to Harry, “or don’t you plan on sleeping at all tonight?”

Harry rolled himself up, carefully placing his guitar flat on the floor. “Sleep? I sorta think I remember what that is?”

He took Louis’ hand and followed him back into the bedroom, allowing himself to be pulled back onto the mattress, while Louis wrapped himself around him from behind, knees buried into the backs of Harrys legs, his crotch curving along Harry’s bum, his chest pressed snugly into his long back.

“Oh God,” Harry groaned “you have no idea how much I love being the little spoon. This is the best.”

Louis chuckled softly into his neck, wrapping him tightly inside his arms.

“The bad news is,” Harry told him, “some of my team are coming at 6.30, which is exactly 35 minutes time, so I’m so sorry but you aren’t going to get much more sleep tonight either.”

“Oh,” Louis eyes snapped opened wide, “should I leave?”

Harry patted his hand where it rested against his stomach, “No, no. You don’t need to leave. I guess we better put on some clothes though. Sorry about this. They’re all nice. Well, mostly. We’ll all have breakfast and you can help me argue with them over my new look.”

“You’re getting a new look?” Louis asked confused. He couldn’t help but reach up to twist Harry’s curls around his fingers, suddenly scared on their behalf.

“Yeah,” Harry yawned, “they want me to be edgier or something. No more pink flamingo shirts. All black gear now, blah, blah. GQ shoot happening. Should probably have slept …… hope someone brings make-up.” Louis could barely make out Harry’s tired voice anymore as he drifted sleepily off.

“Hmm,” Louis muttered, “what about neon pink hearts and birds painted on your chest? Will they work with your new look?”

Harry chuckled softly, not answering.

Louis noticed the grey dawn creeping silently into the room then through the open curtains, and he found himself cursing at the new day arriving. There had been so many long nights in his life, he thought, when he had lain awake, worrying for his sick sister, for his mother, craving his step-dad’s return, or pacing the floor with one of his baby siblings, so many nights when he prayed for an ending to a night’s lonely darkness.

But now, just once, he wished the light away. This one time he wanted to stay wrapped up in the black, to stay hidden inside it, to cling on to whatever dark enchantment he had wandered into. And this one time, like a curse from a cruel god, the light rushed in to greet him. And life just wasn’t fair.

Then, Harry shifted inside his arms, and in a voice thickened with tiredness he muttered, “Hey - will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow? Or, I mean, tonight? After work…”

And Louis pressed his lips to the back of Harry’s shoulder and thought that, all the same, just sometimes, life threw you a bone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I was nervous about posting this chapter, as I haven't written sexy stuff before. Eeek! Anyway, moving on...
> 
> I've two versions of the next chapter written so I'm in a dilemma which to post - the fluffy date chapter, or the chapter where the drama kicks off. Decisions, decisions ... Hope to have one of them up before the end of the weekend.
> 
> Oh - I actually have a private playlist for this story, but the song for this chapter is this - [Mirrorball](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMD7FIpq11Q) by Elbow
> 
> (But the song I'm imagining Harry is writing is actually [For You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMD7FIpq11Q) by Gavin James)


	19. Kindness and Love for Tender Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis' first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after a lot of deliberations, I couldn't deny Harry and Louis the chance of a night together (before things go wrong again). Hope you enjoy!

Louis had just stepped onto the marble tiles of the front lobby of the Dorchester when his phone pinged with a text notification.

**Hey Lou! You nearly here yet? :-)**

**_Just got here. In the lobby. U coming down?_**

See, Louis could do this. He could be perfectly chill and pleasant and could totally act like accepting Harry’s invitation to dinner was a normal, not-breaking-habits-of-a-lifetime/meltdown-triggering thing to do. He tugged at the rolled up cuffs of his only smart jacket, and dried his sweating palms on his narrow, tailored trousers. Two couples walked past in evening wear, dripping diamonds and silken scarves and wafting expensive scent and God, Louis had thought he had dressed up. His phone dinged again just as he was wondering if he should have come in the servants’ entrance.

**Yay! So I had a good idea for our date!!!! Key for you at the front desk. x Ask for Chuckie Finster’s room. Come straight up. Hope ur hungry! ;-)**

Minutes later, Louis tapped lightly on the door of the Deanery Suite and slid the keycard down to unlock it, calling tentatively, “Hello?” … Harry?”

“Well, hello again Louis,” Harry’s deep voice emanated from further inside so Louis wandered in further. The room had clearly seen a lot of business that day - a rack of dark clothes was pushed against the wall, and the tables were cluttered with stained cups, plates, stacks of polaroids and fashion magazines.

Louis made his way to the doorway of the bedroom and came to an involuntary stop, freezing in shock. Harry was in there alright. He was very much there … lying on top of the bedcovers - his long-limbed body naked and splayed, only a pair of tiny black briefs preserving any semblance of modesty. As Louis examined more closely (because who the hell wouldn’t examine this scene closely?) he noticed small morsels of food, arranged in careful patterns all over Harry’s bare skin.

Louis gaped open-mouthed at the sight in front of him for a full minute, before spluttering and collapsing into laughter, holding onto the door frame.

“Oh my God!” he gasped through his laughter, “what the hell is this?”

Harry beamed at him from his prone position on the bed. “It’s dinner, Lou. I wanted it to be special.” He waggled his eyebrows invitingly.

Louis couldn’t catch a breath, but reached to take his phone out of his back pocket, “I gotta keep a picture of this.”

“No!” Harry sat up, eyes wide and reaching out anxiously, “no photos Louis!” He looked down then at the pieces of food he had dislodged in his haste and sighed sadly, “Aw shit, now I have to arrange them all again. That took ages.” He slumped back on the bed, delicately replacing everything as Louis regretfully replaced his phone into his back pocket and moved closer.

“Well, I didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t this,” Louis chuckled. He then caught a scent of something and wrinkled his nose a little. “Ugh, hang on, is this sushi?”

“Yeah,” Harry grinned, covering his nipples with two round pieces of cucumber roll, “come on, Lou. Have a nibble.”

Louis tried not to gag. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort, Harry, but I’m really not into raw fish, sorry. No matter what it’s served on.”

Harry frowned, looking at Louis perplexed, “What?! Really? There are some Japanese businessmen who pay a lot of money for this kind of experience, you know.”

“Well, I think I saw a few Japanese businessmen downstairs if you’d like me to ask them up? ‘Cause there’s no way in hell I’m eating any of that.”

Harry narrowed his eyes salaciously, “Oh, so you’d prefer to watch then?”

Louis slowly shook his head, propping his hands on his hips. “I didn’t quite realise what a little perv you are, Harry Styles! Don’t you think this is all, just maybe, a bit much for a first date?!”  
“Shit. Is it?” Harry’s eyes widened, “I was just trying to be all sexy and seductive and stuff. I thought that’s what you liked.”

“I do!” Louis laughed, “But since we already seduced each other, maybe we should do the getting-to-know-you part now?” He pressed the back of his hand to his nose. “And seriously - can you put that stuff away somewhere? The smell is making me retch.”

“Well I’m crushed, Louis. I really am,” Harry sighed, sitting up again and trying to collect the sushi in his hands before it hit the bedcovers. “This whole thing has turned into a total damp squid.”  
Louis groaned. “God no, Harry - the sushi is one thing but I’m going to have to draw the line at the bad puns.”

Harry grinned to himself and shuffled on his knees across the mattress to Louis. “Well, come and say hello properly at least.”

Louis smiled and leaned down to him. “Hi”, he said, shivering at the touch of Harry’s light fingers along his jaw. “Hello,” Harry said and kissed him gently. Their mouths glided together, and Louis parted his lips to let Harry’s tongue touch against his - before he jerked back, another grimace on his face. “You were eating those things before I got here, weren’t you?” 

Harry blinked back slowly in fake innocence.

Louis stepped away from him, shaking his head sternly, “Brush your teeth, Harry. You taste like the bottom of a fishing trawler and it’s frankly disgusting.”

Harry rolled his eyes and flung himself backwards onto the mattress with a groan, “Well, this is all going VERY WELL so far.”

 

“The thing is,” Harry said, coming out of the bathroom 10 minutes later, cleansed of all traces of sushi and fully dressed but looking terribly worried, “and this is really poor, I know, but today was so crazy I didn’t actually get a second alone to organise reservations anywhere. So would room service be OK? Oh! I could get them to bring up champagne and strawberries?! Yeah?”

Louis chuckled at Harry’s expression of despair. And to think he had been nervous about this date. “You know I’m not here to be impressed or anything, Harry?” he told him gently. “I’m happy to just hang out. There’s no need for champagne or naked serving platters any of that stuff.”

Harry looked back blankly at Louis then, as though trying to decide if he believed him, and it made Louis’ heart melt a little. He studied Harry’s pale face, the dark circles under his eyes and the lacklustre slope to his shoulders and asked, “Tell me, did you actually leave this room at all today?”

“Um … actually no, now that you mention it.”

Louis picked up the keycard he had been entrusted with, “OK then, kid, get your coat, you need some fresh air.”

Harry looked worried again for a moment, and Louis tried to resist the strong urge to swaddle him up like a baby and sing him lullabies while rocking him on his knee, “It’s dark out - put on a hat and we’ll just go for a walk. You won’t need security if we keep clear of pubs and cafes, surely?”

Harry shrugged, but reached into a wardrobe for an enormous sheepskin coat, muttering, “Well, what’s the worst that could happen, right?”

 

They dashed between rushing cars to cross the road to Hyde Park, which was spilling over its tall, wrought-iron railings. Louis breathed in the sharply pungent scent growing things, such a rare experience in London, and pulled Harry into the park through an open gate, his hand warm inside Louis’ and they plunged into the darkness.

They had walked along for just a few moments, when a group of women appeared, coming towards them on the path, tottering on high heels, tipsily giggling and whooping. Harry’s body tensed beside him, so Louis swung an arm up around Harry’s shoulder, drawing him in closer. 

The group passed them by, laughing and happy, and Louis felt Harry relax.

He couldn’t help planting a quick kiss on Harry’s cheek. “See?!” he told him, “They didn’t recognise you. You worry too much. I knew a walk was a good idea. Isn’t this great? Fresh air, plants, nature?”  
Suddenly a giddy shout rang out from behind them, “Harry Styles! We all love you!”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Louis, but his dimples had appeared in his face and he turned to wave back at the group of tipsy women, who were continuing their unsteady progress but were now walking backwards to gape at him.

“Hey Harry!” one of the women called again, “Who’s your cutie?!” They cackled into each other’s shoulders.

Harry laughed back and swung an arm around Louis’ waist. “He’s Louis!” he called to them, “Louis’ my cutie.”

Louis heard the girls laugh again and one shouted “Lucky Louis!”

Harry’s eyes twinkled as he met Louis’.

“Well,” Louis said, carefully arranging a neutral expression on his face, “at least they were nice.”

“Hey, cutie Louis,” Harry murmured into his ear, “follow me.”

 

And suddenly Harry was gone - striding away from the path across an expanse of grass towards a copse of trees, which were swaying black and ominous against orange-hued clouds.  
Louis blanched. “Harry, come back!” 

He wondered if this might be an appropriate time to mention that despite his earlier enthusiasm, he actually really didn’t like nature all that much. Especially not in-the-dark-nature. And most especially when that in-the-dark-nature was only pretend-nature in the first place since it was in the middle of London and was just there to provide hiding places for serial killers and perverts and rabid squirrels and fucking werewolves too probably! And, not to mention, Louis was wearing his good shoes and there was probably a dog poo out there in the grass with his name on it. 

But as he watched Harry disappear beneath the reaching branches, he could do nothing but follow. 

Harry was leaning against the trunk of a tree by the time he caught up with him. He beckoned Louis closer, his voice hoarse and deep when he spoke. 

All he said was “C’mere cutie.” and Louis was pressing into him, meeting his lips, sipping at him like he was a drink. His fingers tangled into Harry’s hair, breathing him in with the lush, damp night air. The kiss was delicate, lingering, their bodies part of it as much as their mouths, legs entwined, hips pressing together. Louis placed his hands either side of Harry, feeling the cold, mossy wood under beneath them, and he let himself believe, just for a moment, that the woods weren’t that scary a place, that maybe there was something there with them in the dark, something that might care, might be on their side, watchful and protective.

“Louis,” Harry breathed, catching his lips in tender brief kisses, his thumb running along his jawline. 

“Louis,” he whispered again, like that explained something, and Louis, who in just 24 hours would look back on all this in pained confusion, at that moment understood everything being expressed, and let his forehead rest gently on Harry’s.

The spark that was always between them began to rage into flame again then, and they grasped at each other, wet mouths leaving flaring marks on skin, finger tips bruising into muscled flesh, a fierce wanting pounding through their veins. The damp air turned heavier and moisture dripped through the leaves and Louis wondered if it was just him who wanted to plunge further into the blackness of the woods around them and hide away forever.

 

Louis felt Harry gasp suddenly and clench his fingers hard into him in a way that wasn’t entirely arousing.

“Don’t suppose you know the Wetherbys, do you, gentlemen?” a gruff voice asked close to Louis’ shoulder and he jumped a foot in fright, whirling around and instinctively spreading his arms to keep Harry safe behind him. A man stood there, right next them, wild-haired and bearded, with sallow skin and hooded eyes that blazed at them.

“Avaricious bastards the lot of them,” the man continued, shuffling past them into the trees. “Used to be among the great patrons of our age, but greed, greed, greed has overrun Stanhope and St Petersburg. Do you value education, gentlemen?”

Harry’s huffed a short, relieved laugh into Louis’ neck as they both stayed frozen in place against the tree. Louis watched the man make his way over to an almost concealed tent, constructed solidly next to mesh of close-knit bushes. It looked well-sheltered, and a blackened patch of earth nearby indicated the chap had burned a campfire there on previous occasions. 

Louis shrugged, grinned at Harry over his shoulder, and said to the man, “Yes, I certainly do value education.”

“Wonderful!” the voice cried back, “But! Never confuse knowledge with truth! Do you value the acquisition of goods, gentlemen?”

They both giggled then, and Louis loosened his hold on Harry so they could both stand up properly. 

“I don’t really value the acquisition of goods just for the sake of it” Harry said then slowly, like he had been thinking it through. “But I do like beautiful things, like, art and well tailored clothes and stuff like that. Do you think that’s bad?”

The man propped his hands on his hips and stared at the sky. “Bad? Who first said that word? Good and bad? What is good but unconditional kindness? What is bad but misplaced love?”

Louis couldn’t help snickering.

“I appreciate love, all right,” Harry told him, “I’m fully on board for love,” and Louis could only marvel at him. 

“I see that, sir,” the man told him. “Kindness and love for all tender things - the greatest wisdom is to be found in the cultivation of that experience. That is my truth.”

“Well, thanks for that, mate,” Louis said, trying to pull Harry away.

“Is this where you’re sleeping tonight?” Harry asked him, and Louis next thought was how he could silently and politely convey to Harry that he was not on-board for inviting the chap back to the Dorchester with them. 

The man merely shuffled away again and before Louis could stop him, Harry was following, taking off his heavy coat and handing it to the man, saying “It’s really warm, keep it.”

“Ah, I knew it.” The man said, thoughtlessly tossing the coat into the tent. “A fellow soldier, wandered from the battlefields. I will see you on the rise! Farewell, young sirs! May your tenderness forever be a beacon to those seeking truth!”

And he crawled into his tent, continuing to mutter to himself. They saw a torch switch on inside, glowing dully through the fabric and then there was the hiss of a drink can clicking open. 

Louis tugged at Harry’s elbow and they drifted back onto a path. Harry walked slightly ahead of Louis for the next while, keeping strangely quiet. 

“Are you worrying about that guy?” Louis asked eventually. “I think he is ok, really. He seemed happy enough in his own way.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry said, “just kinda thinking about how that happens to someone. I mean, wouldn’t he have had a family at some point? Some friends? Like, he seemed sweet. If he wasn’t well, mentally, why wouldn’t they have looked out for him? How did he end up so alone?”

Louis bit his lip, some form of vague guilt throbbing at his conscience. “Well, maybe … it can be a bit hard sometimes … being close to someone who isn’t well like that and won’t let you help them get better. Maybe he had people who tried but got worn out in the end. Sometimes people just have to cut loose to save themselves from getting dragged down too.”

Louis thought of his step-dad, during those last few weeks before he finally left. And that one night in particular, when Louis woke to find him on his knees on the kitchen floor, sobs wracking through his body like he was being violently pummeled by an invisible force.

But Harry didn’t answer, a deep frown furrowing between his eyebrows. He kept so quiet that Louis began to worry he had said something wrong. But fuck, who the hell was Harry to silently judge him anyway? It must be so nice to experience the world the way Harry did - being showered in adoration everywhere you went, being pampered and presented with luxuries and £900 a night hotel suites. It must be really great to be so precious to everyone that you can’t even begin to understand how someone might end up alone and unloved.

Louis stuffed his hands into his pockets, snorting in private annoyance, which caused Harry to glance anxiously at him.

“You ok?” he asked.

Louis shrugged, and forced a smile onto his face. He took a breath and reminded himself it wasn’t quite rational to be angry at Harry for being so lovable. “Yeah, just getting a bit peckish to be honest. I was starving myself all day to make room for the fabulous dinner you promised me.”

Harry sniggered guiltily and looked around. He pointed at a nearby gate. “You know, I think there may be a solution at hand.” 

Ten minutes later, they were inside an empty fish and chip shop, waiting for Louis’ order of a large bag of chips. But when the guy handed the hot, grease-stained paper bag over the counter, Louis noticed that Harry was blushing furiously.

“Um, Louis,” he started, “you know the way I invited you for dinner?”

Louis stared at him.

“But it turned out you have the palate of an 8 year old and wouldn’t eat the nice sushi?” 

Louis frowned, but nodded slowly.

“And then we met that guy, and I gave him my coat?”

Louis raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I kinda gave him all the cash I had on me, too.”

Louis raised the other eyebrow.

“So, Styles,” he asked, “are you telling me that not only am I NOT getting the dinner to which you invited me, but I have to now pay for this bag of chips myself?”

“Um, sorry?” Harry shrugged, dimples appearing, and blinking his long eyelashes at Louis.

Louis might have wanted to kiss him again then, but a steaming bag of salty chips was in his hands and dammit they were getting his priority attention right now.

 

The thing was, Louis didn’t actually date. He had hook-ups and encounters and an occasional long weekend of falling in and out of bed with someone, but despite his inexperience in the field he had an inkling that tonight’s date really was technically a bit of a disaster. From the sushi to their walk to the kissing under the trees, things just hadn’t gone their way, and now they were halfway back through the park and, of course, the heavens opened and cold, long sheets of rain fell, quickly drenching through Harry’s thin sweater. They grabbed hands again and galloped back towards the hotel, just as the rain was joined by bullet-hard hailstones, and Louis couldn’t stop laughing.

Because this beautiful disaster felt like an absolute beginning and that they were running over mountains and oceans and for the first time in his whole life, Louis’ heart was open and free of all the hard lines that always bound him in before. And running through the rain with Harry, he felt something like certainty.

It was refreshing. And Louis wanted more. He wanted to see what happened next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being a bit of a monster, so I had to split it - next bit coming soon.
> 
> Chapter inspiration and theme song: [Absolute Beginners](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8NZa9wYZ_U) David Bowie and Kate Bush


	20. Deep Enough To Drown A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis helps Harry to sleep ... but a nightmare is waiting for him when he wakes.

_The next morning..._

Noise. Somewhere nearby, something was making noise. Harry didn’t know what exactly was going on but that was ok because Harry wasn’t altogether sure he existed anymore. He was just the remnants of a consciousness, floating peacefully in warm, empty blackness. And that was ok. Leave him here. It’s beautiful here.

But the noises. Those noises were still clanging at the edge of this wide emptiness. They were chasing the blackness away, and no, Harry didn’t like that so he tried to pull away from that noise, burying himself deep. 

_Harry!_

No. It was all going away. Someone was calling him back but it wasn’t the voice he wanted to hear. It wasn’t Louis. Where was Louis?

Harry’s mind dove away again into dream … but no, these were memories … just-made memories … running along pathways in the darkness of Hyde Park, the swirling wind and cold rain, pin-picks of pain when the hailstones hit his skin. He had been gasping for breath - that familiar sensation - but this time it was different, this breathlessness was from the chase and their laughter, and yet … the other kind wasn’t far away, it never was these days. He remembered standing, just arrived back in the hotel, trembling, and Louis had taken one look at him and went to run a hot bath, muttering about pneumonia and silly popstars who thought they didn’t need coats.

So, Harry had peeled off his wet clothes, letting them slap onto the bathroom’s marble floor, and turned in expectation of finding Louis’ eyes lingering over his nakedness. Because that’s what people did. He saw them all the time - drinking in the spectacle of his features, their want written all over their faces, hungry looks slithering all over his body. And it would have been a lie to say that Harry hated it, but all the same, he was glad when he found something else in Louis’ expression just then. Louis’ blue eyes shone with a mix of fondess and amusement and he laughed at Harry and said “Cold is really not a good look for you.” And Harry caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror - blue lips, dark-ringed eyes, blanched, goose-pimply skin and he laughed too but hurried to hide himself under the deep foam of the steaming bath. Worry prickled along his spine, remembering … Louis had said earlier that people got worn out looking after broken people. A flash of fear had shot through Harry at the sight of himself - did he look broken? Did it show?

In the warmth of the bathwater, he tried to change back, to become the charming young man that people liked best, the guy people wanted to be around, the guy who wouldn’t wear people out.

“You know, this bathtub is allegedly the deepest in London.” Harry told Louis, sending him his practiced, flirty smile, before closing his eyes and dipping his head back to wet his hair. “So, you should definitely experience this with me. You can tell your grandchildren about it.”

“Is it deep enough to drown a man?” Louis said then, edging closer, his voice creepily low-pitched.

“What?” Harry had peeped over the edge of the tub, just in time to see Louis’ hand appear over his head to push him down under the fragrant bubbles, barking out a loud laugh.

“You wanker,” Harry spluttered on popping up again, wiping suds from his face, “Go away! I changed my mind. You don’t deserve this bath.”

And then they were laughing like kids and everything felt light and like home again, and Louis took off his clothes too and stepped into the opposite end of the tub, drawing up his knees and letting the water lap at his shoulders. Harry twisted his wet hair into a loose knot at the back of his head and wondered again how it was that he never knew what was coming next with Louis. And he wondered why he liked it so much.

Eventually, after watching Louis’ cheeks pinken slightly in the steamy heat, and the sudden shyness that came over his expression, Harry gave up. The warmth of the bath was making it impossible for Harry to fight off the exhaustion of the last sleepless 48 hours, and he just didn’t have the mental energy trying to figure out Louis and what he might want from him. So he just gave in and went along with his own urges right then.

He reached under the water to grasp Louis’ ankles, giggling at his alarmed expression. But all Harry did next was to pull gently at Louis’ legs until they were stretched straight along the sides of the bath, and Harry slunk through the bubbles to sit between them, his back resting on Louis’ chest. 

Harry sighed, letting his head settle back against Louis collarbones, and found himself muttering, “that’s better.” He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply and felt Louis laugh beneath him.

“Sorry about tonight,” Harry had said eventually.

Louis chuckled gently, “I had fun. It’s been fun.”

“Oh come on Louis,” Harry grumbled, “you had a terrible time.” He sighed heavily again, before his sleep-deepened voice murmured, “… our next date will be better, I promise.”

“I really didn’t have a terrible time, Harry.” Louis’ voice was soft. “I told you - I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He reached for a flannel and soaked it, then gently stroked it along Harry’s shoulders and arms, squeezing out warm gushes of water along his skin. Harry heard himself whimper in pleasure at the sensation and then Louis trailed his fingers down Harry’s cheek, until Harry nuzzled into his neck, pressing his lips against Louis’ skin in a gentle kiss.

He felt like he was dissolving in the heat and could only sit there quietly as Louis continued to caress him with the flannel, the only sound was gentle splashing, but eventually even that ended, and the two of them sank into stillness and just breathed together in the white clouds of mist.

Louis pressed his palm against Harry’s forehead, and stroked lightly over his hair, nudging his lips against the side of Harry’s face. Harry felt drugged, utterly unable to move or speak. All he could do was feel - feel warmth and comfort and the heaviness of his limbs and the soft gentleness of Louis’ fingertips on his skin. 

After an age of silent motionlessness, he felt Louis’ lips move against his cheek as he whispered, “Harry, babe, are you ok?”

Harry had managed to sigh an “ummmm” into Louis’ neck.

“Maybe we better get you out before you melt.”

Harry tried to speak, but all that came out was an indecipherable mutter of protest and he felt Louis giggle and shift a bit, trying to sit them up straighter. 

“Come on, love,” Louis encouraged, rubbing at Harry’s shoulder. 

“No, no, no, no, no, Lou,” Harry could only mutter, and he swung one lax arm back to clutch around Louis’ neck. “Can’t … so tired.”

Louis kissed his forehead, but managed to reach for the plug somewhere behind him and tug it out, and the slurping sound of the retreating water wrenched a sad moan from Harry, before he eventually allowed himself to be nudged up out of the tub and Louis sat him down on the edge and wrapped a huge fluffy towel around his shoulders. Harry felt himself patted dry, as he clutched onto the marble beneath him to counter the buzzing dizziness that swirled inside his head. Then Louis had taken his hand and was guiding him along, and his eyes wouldn’t stay open but he felt the smooth coolness of white cotton sheets enveloping him and then … nothing … then blackness and peace.

 

Until now. 

“Harry! You have to wake up!”

Liam’s voice was too close and too loud.

Harry managed to open his eyes a crack and he stretched a hand along the mattress beside him. He was alone.

He forced himself onto his elbows, blinking painfully at the too-bright light that filled the bedroom.

“Louis?” he croaked, trying to focus on the blur that was Liam moving around.

“He’s gone, Harry. He had to go. Now get up - you need to get dressed. Something’s happened.”

 

…………………………….

 

Louis hadn’t expected the night to end the way it did. Not with Harry passing out on him and turning corpse-like in his bed - presenting Louis with the dilemma of just leaving … and then maybe causing Harry to fret that he had offended him somehow; or staying … which technically he hadn’t been invited to do. He decided on a compromise, to just lie quietly by Harry’s side for a little while, just to be sure he was ok, because he had seemed a little too hot and too quiet before he felt asleep so Louis drew the covers up over him and worried briefly about letting him go to sleep with wet hair, petting his forehead gently and pressing a soft kiss between his eyebrows. 

And then Louis pulled back sharply with a gasp and decided he better slap his own face because he had just ended the worst (ok, only) date of his life and he still felt a surge of happy contentedness like he had never known before. He didn’t even care that he was clearly not having sex tonight because instead he had got to look after Harry and worry about him catching a chill, and tuck him up safe and warm, and kiss his sleeping brow, and what the hell was happening to him and was there a cure? And if there was a cure, someone better hide it fast because Louis really, really didn’t want it. Ever.  
This was the scariest thing that had ever happened to him. But he liked it. A lot.

 

And then, it was morning suddenly, and Louis woke to find himself wrapped around a still dead-to-the-world Harry, lying fully clothed on top of the covers, but being hauled to his feet by a frantic looking Liam, who shunted him out the door with panicked words about some media issue and lawyers and how Louis REALLY needed NOT to be here right now.

And Louis hadn’t really been alarmed too much, because he knew Liam had a tendency to flap, and he sort of felt like he was floating instead of walking, and as he left through the hushed luxury of the Dorchester lobby, he was quite sure the doorman grinned at him in an entirely congratulatory manner so it was clear the world had transformed overnight into something good and sweet and new.

He paused briefly on the steps of the hotel, biting his lip, before deciding to pay a visit to the one person he knew to be closest to the person he wanted to be closest to. It seemed like an acceptable compromise.

 

Louis was kept waiting a long time for a response after knocking at Niall’s apartment but eventually, the door opened a crack and Niall slunk through, casting a furtive glance back behind him before grasping Louis’ elbow and dragging him down the hallway.

“What are you doing?” asked Louis, trying to wriggle out of Niall’s painful grip on his arm.

“Shush! Listen!” Niall hissed, pushing Louis further along, “Be cool! I really need your help right now. So, after you left the party, I hooked up with a girl, and one thing led to another, and …”

Niall stopped suddenly, a creaking noise behind them alerting them to the fact that his apartment door was opening. They turned towards the sound and saw a dark-haired girl, tiptoeing backwards out into the hallway, pink shoes in her hands. She was peering back behind her into the apartment, and trying to pull the door gently closed, flinching with each whine from the hinges.

She turned then, and jumped when she saw the two boys watching her. “Oh!”

Niall frowned. “Hey! Were you sneaking out on me?!”

Louis wasn’t quite sure where to look at that moment, but settled for the floor in front of his feet. Yikes. All dictionary definitions for the word “Awkward” could now be deleted and replaced with a short description of this moment.

“What?! Oh no, of course not! I was just … just … um…” the girl’s voice faltered.

“But I was making pancakes,” Niall said, narrowing his eyes and Louis wanted to crawl into the carpet.

“Shoes!” the girl proclaimed suddenly, brandishing her shoes in front of her. “I was just picking up my shoes. Kicked them off on the way in here last night - and look!” She swung them around, quite unnecessarily violently, Louis felt. “Here they are! Still here! Phew! Love these shoes. So pink! Thank goodness they’re ok.”

“Oh right,” Niall said then, sounding tentatively consoled. “So, you’ll stay for pancakes then?”

“Sure!” the girl squeaked. “Yummy!”

“Cool!” Niall grinned and gestured at the door behind her, “Well, then, lets head back in then and breakfast will be served! At lunchtime. Cause we’re young and rebellious and won’t be bound by society’s rules, am I right? Haha!”

She smiled brightly at him, showing lots and lots of her teeth, and backed slowly in through the door, clutching tightly onto her pink shoes. Louis almost felt sorry for her, except - Niall was a catch dammit! Solely because of him, Louis had revised his long-held disdain for smiley people and hence it was now his firm belief that unappreciative straight girls who didn’t value Niall’s charms really needed to get their heads’ examined.

The second the girl disappeared back through the doorway into the apartment, Niall whirled around and slammed Louis against the wall.

“Wha’? Niall! That hurt!” Louis protested, rubbing the back of his head where he was quite sure a bruise would shortly appear.

Niall pressed his hand over Louis’ mouth and leaned in urgently, quickly glancing at the doorway, “Shut up! Listen! You have one mission when we get back in there - find out her name! Clear? OK. Good. I know I can rely on you. Let’s go.”

Louis looked at Niall, stunned. “You don’t know her name?” he whispered through Niall’s fingers.

“Well obviously, that’s why I just asked you to find it out!” Niall whispered back. He released Louis, and patted him down, smiling devilishly. “It was really loud at the party and we haven’t exactly spent that much of our time together since talking.”

Louis wrinkled his nose. “Really Niall? You seriously can’t remember her name? It’s been two days…”

“Oh shut up,” Niall said, pushing him towards the door, “like it’s never happened to you. Now go. Do your duty as a pal.”

Louis stumbled through the door and followed the girl towards the kitchenette, where a bowl of pancake batter was waiting beside an empty pan. The girl, whoever she was, was still dressed in party clothes - a short, figure-hugging dress, and Louis had to take a moment to appreciate that she was actually very beautiful. Well done, Niall. No wonder he was reluctant to let her go.

“So, any requests for what you would like with your pancakes?” Niall was asking.

“Blueberries!” the girl chirped immediately, “got any blueberries by any chance? I always have blueberries at breakfast. I used to hate them for ages because they’re not even blue - they’re like a purpley-black - so it’s like false advertising as far as I’m concerned, but then my sister was all like - but they’re a superfood - why cut of your nose to spite your face?, so I just decided to let it go. They are excellent sources of antioxidants and manganese and um… other stuff. Hang on, I’ll look it up.” She took out her phone to check, leaning against the kitchenette counter.

Hmmm. Another over-talker when uncomfortable. Louis could relate.

“Hello,” Louis launched his mission, while Niall rummaged in the fridge for blueberries. (Niall was lucky that Louis had now joined him in the ranks of the smiley people of the world and could therefore now interact with strangers in a positive and engaging manner), “I’m Louis.” He held out his hand to her, waiting for her to grasp it and introduce herself in return.

“God!” she was gasping, and that was unexpected.

“No, just Louis,” he tried again, uncertainly. Did Niall really know what he had got himself into here?

“They’re actually fucking,” the girl gasped.

And Louis peered more closely and saw she was looking at some blurred image on her phone screen that seemed to feature a lot of naked flesh. OK. So Niall’s girl had some unexpected tastes. Louis had no intention of making judgements. But really? Just as pancake breakfast/tea was about to be served? With manganese-rich blueberries?

“Seriously! Look!” the girl cried, pushing her phone into Louis’ face and he wondered how he might explain to Niall that he should probably try to find a hook-up with a better understanding of appropriate social behaviour. Like, who actually thrust porn in the faces of people they were just being introduced to? Except , now that Louis took a second glance at it, something about that porn looked strangely familiar.

Louis heard a dull buzzing in his ears, and his whole body tingled in cold shock. He read and re-read the headline over the image, before reaching to take the phone from the girl and scroll down the page.

**“Harry Styles In Gay Orgy Scandal”**

And then he laughed aloud. 

The image on the girl’s phone wasn’t from a porn site but was instead illustrating a gossip article on some celebrity news site. It was clearly taken at Zayn’s party two nights ago. It was grainy and poorly lit, but it showed Harry, Liam and Zayn together – that moment when Harry danced in between them for the sake of Liam’s heart. It was cropped so close so that all you could see was their bare chests and shoulders, and how closely pressed together they were, the drunkenly slack expressions on Liam and Zayn’s faces now carrying an implication of orgiastic pleasure. 

“Oh my god, it looks like they’re actually fucking.” Louis said aloud. 

“That’s exactly what I said,” cried Blueberry Girl. 

“No,” Niall interjected, “You said ‘They’re actually fucking”, but Louis said, ‘It looks like they’re actually fucking.’ A slight but possibly important difference. And I think Louis was trying to introduce himself to you there, weren’t you Louis?” 

Louis ignored him and scrolled further down the page and gasped at the nonsense written there. It was full of anonymously sourced quotes about Harry being caught having sex publicly with two guys at a seedy sex party. That he was known throughout the music business as a notorious sex addict. That his so-called Assistant, who was always by his side, was actually his secret lover and recruiter of random sex partners. That his heavy drug use was compounding his problems. That his friends were concerned about him and were advising him to seek treatment. 

Louis started to laugh aloud again, but stopped just as abruptly, suddenly feeling very cold. 

“What are you two on about anyway?” Niall was asking, tipping another pancake onto the stack he had been quickly accumulating. 

“We could have been in an orgy with Harry Styles at that party and we missed it,” the girl said, picking blueberries out of the small bowl Niall had set out and tossing them into her mouth one by one. 

Niall snorted, “Yeah, only Harry could manage to fit an orgy into a 10 minute gap in his schedule. The little git would probably leave everyone satisfied too.” 

He laughed to himself and grinned over at Louis expecting his joking agreement. He froze when he saw Louis’ expression. “What?” he asked and then reached for the phone, wiping his hands clean on a tea-towel. 

“What the fuck?” Niall spluttered then, clamping his hand over his mouth. He barked out a short laugh before coming up short and scanning the rest of the article. “What the actual fuck?!” 

He looked up at Louis, “They can’t write crap like this about people, can they?” 

“Oh, so it’s not true then?” asked Blueberry Girl, sounding disappointed. 

“No!” both Louis and Niall shouted together. 

“Sheesh! OK guys, it was just a question,” the girl countered, holding up her palms placidly. “Pity, cause those three hotties together look like the sexiest wet dream a girl could ever wish-” 

“Stop!” Louis choked out, “please.” 

Niall was pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is … this is just a joke, right? I mean, everyone will know it’s just bullshit, right?” 

“Well, I didn’t,” shrugged Blueberry Girl. “Are you 100% sure it’s not true?” 

“Yes!” Louis and Niall shouted in unison again. 

“OK, OK,” she waved back at them, “It’s just that - it’s like what you said. They actually can’t write lies like this about people, not without some kind of evidence or reliable source - the person could sue them for defamation. I mean - this isn’t some random tumblr - it’s the entertainment section of a fairly big news site. Why would they risk legal action without good reason?” 

She was right, Louis realised. Nothing made sense. 

He looked to where Niall was pacing the sitting room, his phone to his ear. “He’s not answering,” he told them, “you try, Louis.” Niall waited as Louis tapped through his contacts to the number Harry had entered there only yesterday morning. The ringing tone persisted for a while before cutting off abruptly and a robotic voice clicked on to inform him that the message box was full. Louis shook his head at Niall, who then collapsed onto the sofa, saying, “I feel a bit sick.” 

“Oh - poor you. I understand. I probably better leave then.” Blueberry Girl shoved her pink sandals on with alarming haste. “And um, thanks for last night. And this morning. And, um, afternoon too actually. I had fun. You’re really nice and good at … stuff. Feel better, eh … kiddo.” 

Louis sank on the sofa beside Niall as the door slammed behind her. They sat in stunned silence for a while before Niall spoke up. 

“You didn’t find out her name for me, Louis.” 

“Sorry.” Louis apologised. He looked up at Niall’s ceiling. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think she remembers your name either,” he told Niall quietly. 

“No,” agreed Niall, “No, I don’t think she does.” 

They both stared at the phones in their hands, silently willing them to ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm now off to finish my first attempt at making a salted caramel chocolate tart ... hope it works out! ;-)
> 
> And I hope wherever you are, that your festive season is full of sweet delicious treats of all kinds!


	21. Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's team at Syco are making the most of a good scandal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Christmas present to you is two DRAMATIC chapters today!

**_Mr Styles does not comment on rumours about personal matters. He has no statement to make except to say that while the image is taken out of context he has never made any secret of his sexuality. He requests his private life is respected._ **

Harry stared at the prepared statement Stacey had passed to him, and then looked back questioningly at her unabashed gleeful expression.

“This is totally ambiguous, Stacey. It doesn’t deny anything,” he protested.

“Exactly!” she cried, whisking the paper back from Harry’s hands. “It’s perfect. Finally there is something interesting about you – I’m not going to ruin this opportunity.” 

Her phone rang and her eyes popped excitedly – “It’s Lucy from Tom Ford – I knew it! The brands are going to start lining up now, if we handle this right. Wait there…” She ran off to take the call.

“But it’s not true…” he called uselessly after her.

Liam was still moping in the armchair in the corner of the hotel room. Harry had been cooped up in the Dorchester for the whole day, and for most of that time Liam had slunk quietly around in the background, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Heard anything from Zayn?” Harry asked him. They had both tried calling him as soon as they knew the articles were happening, but had only been able to leave messages.

“Actually yes,” Liam said quietly. “He’s on his way home to his folks, to try to explain. He’s got a lot of older relatives … conservative types … they’re all up in arms about the shame he has brought on the family. Hopefully he can sort it.”

Harry felt colder on hearing this news. Zayn talked about his family a lot during the short time they had known each other.

“He was really angry,” Liam said quietly, leaning his head into his hands.

“Did you find out who leaked the photo?” Harry asked.

“It wasn’t a “leak”, Harry,”” Liam told him. “It was just one of the other students in Zayn’s class – it was just on his Snapchat story from the party he sent around. Someone saved it and cropped it and made it look like something it wasn’t.”

Harry didn’t want to think about who that might have been, but he involuntarily turned away from the sound of Stacy’s voice in the corridor.

“Is everything ok with _your_ family?” Harry asked Liam then, biting at his nails as he waited for the answer.

“Yeah,” Liam muttered gloomily, “Mum just laughed. Told me to bring you home for dinner whenever we got time between our sex parties and drug deals.” 

Harry snorted. His parents too had quickly accepted his explanation, before gently questioning him on whether he was really ok, and could he confirm that he definitely not a drug addict, and was he going to let the tabloids get away with it, and what about his position as a role model for young people, and maybe it was about time he stopped with this music stuff anyway and went to do his engineering degree like they had always discussed?

“Wouldn’t say no to one of your Mum’s Sunday roasts, actually,” Harry tried to sound cheery, hoping it might wrestle a smile from Liam. 

Liam shrugged. “You can’t. You’re supposed to be going paleo, remember? So you’ll be buff enough for an underwear shoot like Justin.”

“Oh yeah.” Harry spread his hands flat on the surface of the table in front of him. Between them, his phone faced upwards, silently lighting up every few minutes with new notifications and calls that he continued to ignore. The team were adamant he shouldn’t speak to anyone just now, but he couldn’t stop himself from tapping to open his Contacts list for what must have been the 50th time that day. He scrolled to Louis’ number, hovering his finger over it, as he had done the 49 previous times. And as had happened those 49 times, he felt his throat tightening, and a weird prickling sensation along the outsides of his hands, and he heard his breathing become louder and ragged.

He moved his hands back flat to the table top and the symptoms subsided.

“OK, so to get going on the next step,” Stacy launched back through the door, in full-on Stacy form, “obviously this threesome is all very titillating for the unwashed masses, but we need to quickly re-establish your desirability to the mainstream – and yes, I’m talking hetero here. So great news is – Georgia is on board! She’s gorgeous Harry – you’ll love her. We can set up something on her instagram and get the rumours going and then - ”

“Wait. Hang on. No.” 

Stacey stopped her blibbering on, and her face flashed with an expression that truly terrified him.

“I can’t do the fake-dating thing again, Stacy. I’ve met someone. I’d quite like to give it a chance.” Harry told her, hoping she couldn’t sense the rate of his breathing just then.

“Who? Who is this person you’ve met?” Stacey responded, her voice like flint.

“No one you know,” Harry muttered, “he’s not in the business. He’s a student.”

“OK, so - no. That won’t be happening,” Stacy said, flicking her fingers over her phone again, “No boys. No nobodies. No meeting people I don’t know about.”

Harry stared at her, allowing a few seconds for the unlikely scenario that Stacy was joking. When she continued her texting, he grimaced and braced himself for the inevitable argument.

“Um, Stacy, I don’t-”

“Harry,” Liam’s strange tone stopped Harry in his tracks. “Maybe you should do it.” 

Harry almost fell out of his chair as he swirled around to face Liam, “What?” he breathed shakily.

“This isn’t just about you,” Liam said, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. “Maybe … just for a while … it might be worth dating this girl. It might help dispel the rumours, you know, if you seem more ……”

“More what, Liam?” Harry asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “more …… like most people.”

Harry’s heart was racing and he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t believe Liam was saying this.

“More straight, do you mean?” Harry asked him.

Liam looked pleadingly at him then. “It might make things easier for Zayn,” he said finally. “He was so upset. It’s his family, Harry. They mean so much to him. It’s not that they’re unaccepting, it’s just the scandal, the way it looks…”

Harry squeezed his hands into fists, and released them, then did it again. And again. Why wouldn’t these pins and needles leave his hands?

“Liam,” he tried, “Louis and I -”

Liam stood suddenly, “But there’s isn’t a Louis and you, Harry. How can there be? You’ll be gone away again in six hours. You’re rarely in one place for more than a few days at a time. Are you really telling me you’re in a position to start a relationship now? Can’t you just wait a while? Let everything settle down? Couldn’t you just do that? For Zayn and m…” Liam stopped himself. “For Zayn and his family?”

Harry looked down again at the phone on the table between his hands.

“Do you really think you two are suited, anyway?” Liam continued quietly. “You don’t even know each other really. I don’t actually think you have all that much in common, to tell you the truth. Maybe, you should think about it more, before you risk your career for something that might not even work out.”

Harry looked at Liam hovering over him – although he had known him for the best part of a year now, he suddenly didn’t recognise him. Liam dropped his head, seemingly unable to hold Harry’s gaze, and Stacey bustled back in, handing Liam her phone, directing him to “Sort Hattie out with the flight times, we’ll need a good pap presence at the LA arrivals.”

She stepped forward then and pulled in a chair to the table, leaning into Harry in a manner he could only think of as menacing.

“Harry,” her voice was low, so quiet that only Harry would have heard her, but there was nothing soothing in her tone, “This is your last chance. Syco has no interest in managing some mid-level, hipster, singer-songwriter. We need you to be an icon, a global star. And we know how to make that happen. For our next step, you can either date Georgia, or we can really wipe out what’s left of your reputation. Your choice.”

He stared at her dumbly. 

Her eyes flashed, as she continued, “For example, we could leak that sex tape of you and Cara. You know - the one where you sniff cocaine off her thighs?”

Harry’s head was swimming. He had spent a weekend with Cara in New York after meeting her at a label party, shortly after ending things with Taylor. He had been feeling a little lonely and she had been funny and flirty, and they had fun together, but the only drugs involved were a half bottle of wine. They had been papped outside their hotel, saying goodbye to each other with friendly hugs and good wishes.

Harry finally managed to rasp, “What sex tape of me and Cara? There’s no sex tape of me and Cara.”

“Oh isn’t there? Maybe not. But maybe rumours of one existing might do the job just as well.” Stacy smiled at him coldly. “I wonder what other kinds of stories might also make their way into the press? Your sister’s studying law, isn’t she? I guess it would be important then that there are never any questions raised about you bribing her professors before her exams. And I heard you were talking up Zayn to some art buyers in New York? Imagine if he ended up getting sued for copyright theft? And I wonder what potential clients would think of your Dad’s relationship with his secretary?”

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. “Stacey. You wouldn’t … why would you make up those kind of lies?”

“Just give me your phone and I’ll take care of things with this student. Let me do my job. I’m good at letting people down easy, honestly. He’ll still think well of you and if it is “meant to be” (Stacey crooked her fingers into air quotes) you can always rekindle things with him sometime in the future when we’ve got you properly established. In fact, it would probably make a great story.”

Harry watched, appalled but somehow unable to move an inch, as she picked up his phone and browsed through his contacts. “Now,” she stood up and spoke loudly, “what’s his name, and we’ll get this done as painlessly as possible.”

“No,” Harry choked out.

Liam suddenly appeared at Stacy’s shoulder. “Louis. His name is Louis.”

 

…

 

**Hey Louis! Hope all’s good? So guess you noticed all the crazy with the media now and there’s a lot going on so I can’t be around much for the next little while. Guess you’ll be busy too with your exams coming up anyway and I don’t want to get in the way of that. Had a great time with you :-D Hope we’ll run into each other again sometime. Take care of yourself. H.**

Louis read the message three times before he stood and flung his phone away from him, hearing a crash but not fully aware of where it landed.

Niall jumped in his seat on the couch, spilling his tea down his front. Then he leapt up and pulled Louis away from the wall, against which which he was banging his head repeatedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song: [Lies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81RqEnvczV8) by Chvrches
> 
> And please don't be upset at this depiction of Liam here - his poor head is just really messed up at the moment. He will redeem himself eventually.


	22. Coffee and Broken Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months later. Louis has moved on ... until he runs into Harry again.

_Two months later …_

 

Almost immediately after starting his paid internship at Syco, Louis realised that the job was cruelly mistitled. He’d been there for six weeks now, and so far his duties were primarily coffee related - collecting coffees on his way in to work each morning, delivering these coffees to various desks around the office, taking coffee orders for meetings throughout the day, going out and collecting said coffees for the meetings, tidying up coffee cups after meetings, restocking coffee supplies in the kitchenette … it never ended.

He had disliked the stuff before he started this job and now his hatred had become so intense that his only comfort was his secret fantasy of flinging cups of it into the faces of the pretentious, insufferable bunch of posers who worked in the company.

That day was a typical example – he punched the lift button with his elbow, carrying a frankly ridiculous list of macchiatos, triple-shot capps, and flat whites in his hands. 

At least he had Liam. The guy was the best, he really was - the one consolation to the lowliness of Louis’ status in the company. He seemed to go out of his way to chat to him whenever he saw Louis’ tether about to snap. And he was the only person who involved him in interesting work from time to time. In fact, Louis suspected that Liam was responsible for getting him the position in the first place - he had nagged him so incessantly to attend for an interview with Simon and then persuaded him that the internship was too valuable an opportunity to pass up. 

So, thank goodness for Liam. And Louis was surprised to find himself thinking that as frequently as he did, considering how long it had taken him to warm up to him in the first place. 

The only thing they never discussed was Harry. There seemed to be an immediate, mutual and unspoken understanding that the subject was too sensitive for either of them to broach. All Louis knew was that Liam was no longer assisting Harry, and was more desk-bound these days - working on contractual details for various artist bookings. It meant Louis had someone to rant to when the coffee delivering all became too much to deal with.

“Oh!” Louis started when the lift doors opened and he found Liam already standing inside, “I was just thinking about you.”

“You bringing that up to the meeting on the second floor?” Liam asked him.

Louis nodded, and gestured to one of the cups. “It’s getting out of hand, Liam. This one is a decaf, mint soy latte with an extra shot. Tell me, what is even the point of the extra shot when it’s decaf in the first place?! Frankly, I felt like putting an extra shot through my skull when I had to say the order out loud.”

Louis waited for Liam’s laugher, surprised when his face remained stoney. Oops. Maybe Liam had reached his limit for absorbing Louis’ coffee-related complaining.

“Just advance warning, Lou,” Liam told him gently, “Harry’s up there with Simon and a bunch of his people. They’re running through his demos for the next album.”

Louis felt his blood run cold, and then hot, and then back to cold again. At least he didn’t drop the coffees. Then he wondered if he should just drop the coffees and run. Liam was looking at him with a strange expression that seemed to sway between sympathy and guilt, but Louis’ brain was working too hard trying to figure out how to play this news, without having to decipher Liam’s facial expressions on top of everything. 

He decided to play it cool. Because he _was_ after all. Louis was cool.

“Well, I can guess who this ludicrous drink is for then,” Louis said, forcing an unconcerned expression onto his face and hoping Liam couldn’t hear his heart pounding - because it seemed to have taken an independent decision to turn its own volume up to 11 and it was hurting the inside of Louis’ ears.

Liam smiled encouragingly back at him. “I’m coming too. Simon wants me to take notes,” he told him, and Louis couldn’t help but feel some comfort at that.

“Have you … spoken to him at all?” Liam asked hesitantly, frowning into the corner of the lift and avoiding Louis’ eyes.

Louis thought back to the 8 missed call notifications he had deleted from his phone in the week after Harry’s dismissal text. There had been two voicemails as well in the days just before every tabloid detailed “Harry’s Dirty Weekend with Gorgeous Georgia”. Louis didn’t listen to the messages either or read the articles and after that the calls stopped coming.

He shook his head. “No,” he told Liam, “that thing ended before it ever got going, so no.”

OK then, Louis resolved. He was a professional. He would intern the shit out of this. This coffee delivery would go down in history. 

 

When he followed Liam into the meeting room, there seemed to be a lot of voices talking at once, until he heard Simon’s unmistakeable drawl firmly stating – “It’s a no from me. It isn’t a single. Let’s move on.” 

Casting a quick glance around the table, Louis saw a bunch of middle-aged guys sprawling around a shiny oval table. On the furthest side, his back to a window, Harry sat, his chair pulled back, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He was clad in all-black, biker boots on his feet, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail, heavy silver chains around his wrists. He looked thinner, swamped under all the black and metal. Louis briefly regretted not sitting in on that restyling meeting - Harry had clearly lost his arguments. He didn’t look like Harry anymore.

Harry glanced up just then and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Louis, who quickly dashed to the sideboard, turning his back to the room. He stalled for as long as he could, wriggling the coffees out of the cup-holders until he felt Liam’s presence at his side. He could have kissed him as he took the cups from Louis’ hands and passed them around for him.

“All right,” Simon announced, shutting everyone up again with his severe tone. “What’s this next one?”

“It’s called For You.”

Louis’ stomach swooped at the deep resonance of Harry’s speaking voice. It did something to him - as it always had done, making the hairs on his body stand upright, bringing a flush to his cheeks. He continued to face away from the room –– busying himself instead with piling pastries on plates and folding napkins.

“OK then,” Simon was saying, “let’s hear it.”

Someone hit a button and music rang out from the boardroom’s expensive speaker system.

And Louis froze.

He recognised these notes immediately even though he had only barely grasped them once before, from the far side of a closed hotel room door. Delicate, barely audible piano notes had replaced the guitar Harry played that night, and some kind of whispering percussion provided a gentle momentum, as his soft voice began the first verse.

And something tugged at the centre of Louis chest as he listened to the lyrics, to their pained mix of pleading and regret. But when the verse faded into chorus Louis turned slowly around, his heart thumping loudly, as certainty gripped him - this song was his.

_“I wish time would slow down  
_ _So I could keep your heart around”_

Louis raised his eyes to seek Harry’s but when he scanned for him across the room he found him hunched forward at the table, his hands entwined and hanging between his knees, his furrowed face downturned. 

_“But I know time won’t slow down_  
_So I can’t keep your heart in my hands_  
_Oh but maybe if you stay a little while_  
_You might feel like I do  
_ _For you”_

The short song finished with Harry’s voice floating upwards and disappearing, like a wish blown away with an extinguished candle flame. 

Finally, Harry raised his face and looked at Louis. And even though he was a tumult of competing emotions right then, Louis could only respond to the sadness shining in Harry’s eyes, and he smiled gently at him. It was Harry’s most beautiful song yet, Louis thought, and he tried to silently convey this to him. 

_____Harry seemed to understand, sitting up and slightly relaxing the frown from his forehead, steadily returning Louis’ gaze. And there were no words between them, no definite message conveyed in that look, but Louis felt they were both being held somehow, embraced inside something true and elemental._ _ _ _ _

_____“Well, it’s alright.”_ _ _ _ _

_____Simon’s voice broke through, his usual sardonic tone sounded like a travesty to Louis, and he whirled incredulously around to look at him._ _ _ _ _

_____“As it stands, it’s a nice little thing.” Simon continued, “It’s probably too quiet to make an impact though. Any thoughts, gang?”_ _ _ _ _

_____There was a rush of voices then._ _ _ _ _

_________“Well, can’t see it getting much daytime radio play.”_  
“Isn’t it too short? It needs another verse or something.”  
“The arrangement needs complete re-working, what even is that scratchy noise?”  
“Oh totally. Actually, you know who we should work with on this one? David Guetta! Can you imagine what he’d do with it?”  
“Yeah, wow. That’s it - speed up the tempo and change the chorus to something anthemic, it could be amazing.” 

_____“You have fucking got to be joking!” The words had left Louis’ mouth before he realised he was even thinking them._ _ _ _ _

_____The group of people sitting around the table went instantly silent and all slowly turned to face him. But now he had started, he couldn’t bring himself to stop._ _ _ _ _

_____“That song is perfect – it’s gentle and beautiful and just sounds so truthful. Are you seriously discussing messing with it? Like really? David Guetta? Are you a bunch of fucking loons?”_ _ _ _ _

_____Everyone looked stunned. Louis stopped talking. He looked back at Harry who was blinking rapidly in shock._ _ _ _ _

_____To Louis’ surprise, Liam was the first one to start talking. “I, I think he might have a point. And not just about this song – we’ve been over-working Harry’s stuff. We should just strip it back. Let it be what it is.”_ _ _ _ _

_____Now all the stern faces turned to Liam. He visibly wilted under the scrutiny._ _ _ _ _

_____“Well, thank you for that, boys,” Simon said, his small, dark eyes glittering coldly. “Always good to know the views of the intern and the office clerk.”_ _ _ _ _

_____A tittering laughter rippled around the table, and Louis found himself getting angrier by the second._ _ _ _ _

_____“Well, what does Harry think?” he asked, “doesn’t he get a say in what you do to his music?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“I think,” Simon returned, “that you are walking a very fine line here, Louis. And I think you better start thinking about whether you really want to get into an argument with me.”_ _ _ _ _

_____Louis just mirrored Simon’s creepy smile because if there was one thing that Louis wasn’t afraid of – it was getting into an argument._ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____…_ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____The row swept around Harry like a gale force wind and suddenly he found that he just couldn’t breath. He turned his back to everyone and moved to the window, pulling and tugging at the window latch – the damn thing wouldn’t open. Behind him, words were flying over and back, he felt like they were transforming into physical things – shrapnel that he needed to duck. Everything was swirling around him, leaving him inside an increasingly airless vacuum and his heart thundered in his chest._ _ _ _ _

___________\- “You DO NOT dictate to me, sunshine. Harry is fully on-board with the plans we have for him. He is the one who wants to be a success.”_  
_\- “Why are you even in this business? You seem to care as much about music as my left arse-cheek. And your lackeys know even less.”_  
_\- “That’s it. You’re done. Get out.”_  
_\- “No! I’m sure he’s sorry, Simon. He’s just passionate about stuff.”  
_\- “Shut it Liam! I wouldn’t work for this company anymore even if he got on his knees and begged.”  
_-“Why are you still here? Someone call security.”___

__________Air, air, air. Why was there no air? Harry was pushing at the frame now, scrabbling his fingers along the wood – where the hell was the latch? What the fuck was wrong with this window? He couldn’t breathe. Oh God, he was dying. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________\- “No! Louis stop! We can talk it out. I’m sure Harry doesn’t mind a new arrangement for the song.”  
_\- “Liam! You are such a weak-livered worm sometimes.”  
_\- “Oh ho ho – must remember that one, Louis. Nice to see you sticking by your friends, by the way.”  
_\- “Don’t laugh at me!”____ _ _ _ _

_____________Harry was aware of a huge crash, splintering loud through the storm like lightening … and behind it … silence. And then … at last …… air. Cool, fresh, sweet air, rushing over his face, filling his lungs, soothing his sweaty, flushed skin._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Harry inhaled deeply, counting each breath like it was a jewel he had discovered in the mud, five now and his heartbeat was slowing, a quiet relief settling around him like a blanket wrapping around his shoulders. He filled his lungs twice more before forcing his eyes to open, slowly managing to focus on the grey clouds outside, a crow flapping lazily past._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Better. He felt a little better now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Harry.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________He wasn’t sure whose voice it was, was just aware that it was low and choked and hoarse - horrified._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________He turned around and saw that everyone in the room was standing up, facing him with white faces frozen in expressions of shock. He glanced down. Splashes of crimson were splattering onto the thick cream carpet of Simon’s office, blooming there like sudden flowers. Something squeezed at Harry’s throat at the sight of it. Oh no. Was this another mess he’d caused? Wonder where he could hire a carpet cleaner in this part of town?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Oh fuck, Harry.” Louis was rushing to him now, ripping off his hoody, quickly arranging it into a long strip before gathering Harry’s bleeding fist into its folds, wrapping it tenderly, supporting his elbow and leaning in close, as though trying to shield him from something._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Blood. It had been dripping from Harry’s still-clenched fist. Shards of glass scattered by his feet among the bloody splashes. His blood._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Harry started as the image suddenly made sense to him, and just at that moment, the quiet stillness that had cocooned him was pierced by a sharp, stinging pain in his hand. He gasped and Louis’ eyes met his, sapphire blue and shining with what might have been held-back tears._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Harry, it’s OK. It’ll be OK.” Louis’ voice was quiet, barely above a whisper._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________A bubble of something close to laughter rose inside Harry’s chest, and he bit his lip in an effort to hold it back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Shit!” He half-gasped, half-giggled. “What did I do? What did I just… Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Harry, it’s OK. Just breath.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Louis led him away from the broken window. Liam hurriedly pulled out a chair and took Harry’s other elbow, guiding him to sit down. Harry tried to shake them off. They were treating him like he was sick or something. He wasn’t sick, was he?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“I’m so ... Simon, I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the damage. I’m –“_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Simon was walking to the other side of the table, picking up his phone, an expression on his face that Harry hadn’t seen before. “Sarah,” his voice to his assistant was stern, “get a car around to the front door. Straight away. Going to the hospital. And do we have a First Aid box here somewhere? Bring it in ... and some towels.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Sad, Harry decided. That was the expression on Simon’s face – he just looked really sad._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, those two chapters weren't very Christmassy were they?! 
> 
> I've now caught up with my pre-written chapters so I'll be working hard to bring this story to its eventual happy conclusion as soon as I can. I've got everything sketched out, so it shouldn't take too long.
> 
> But - now is your chance if you have any questions or suggestion about how this story is shaping up!
> 
> I love to see kudos and comments so please leave some if you like things so far. Thank you for reading!
> 
> (ps - no offence David Guetta! I love Titanium!)


	23. A Stylsian Slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets his cuts treated. Louis tries to be there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think a trigger warning might be excessive for this chapter, but just to say there a bit of emotional turmoil going on inside Harry's head, and the way it is depicted isn't intended to trivialise these kinds of issues.

Once Liam guided him into the car, Harry let his head sink back and inhaled deeply. God, breathing felt good. His lungs felt freer than they had done in weeks. He heard the doors slam shut either side of him and glanced up to find that Simon and Louis had sandwiched him in the middle of the backseat, both silently glowering at each other over his head. He bit his lip to suppress a giggle. 

Actually, Harry couldn’t help noticing that he felt frickin’ great just now. It was a bit like that buzz he got from the pain of a new tattoo, except he felt more detached now, all light and floaty, his heart thrumming a million beats a second in his chest. 

So it appeared the way to fix crazy was to get a little more crazy. This was an interesting discovery - maybe he should start a new branch of psychology since this music stuff was turning out to be more complicated than he had thought. He could be the Freud of the 21st century. He might need to grow an impressive moustache or something though, to be taken seriously. He chuckled softly, picturing himself with a knee-length beard in front of a lecture room, saying in a german accent (cause why not?) _“Und now I vill demonstrate the cathartic effects of the “Stylsian Slip”_ and smashing his fist through a pane of glass before cackling wildly while the crowd of students in front of him cheered their appreciation of his genius.

He opened his eyes and saw that Liam, Louis and Simon were watching him carefully, expressions of alarm on their faces.

OK, so, he better row back on the internal monologing for a little while. 

“Sorry,” he told them, “I was just thinking about something stupid.”

They all smiled too brightly at him and nodded encouragingly. Simon patted his knee. Which was weird in itself, but then Louis started glaring at Simon’s hand like he had lasers in his eyes and was trying to burn it off at the wrist. Harry wondered if he suggested a group hug would everyone quit all the freaky staring or would they just strangle each other.

Maybe he’d strangle them instead, just tighten his long fingers around their stupid necks and watch them all slowly turn blue. That actually sounded fun. The Stylsian Stress Buster.

And just like that, Harry observed his euphoric bubble popping open to spill out a slowly cresting wave of anger. Why were these people in the car with him like this, acting like they were rivals in some Who Cares The Most About Harry competition? Were they just doing this on purpose? Were they actually trying to make him go crazy?

Suddenly everything darkened and closed in around him and that heavy pressure was back, squeezing down into his ribs. He leaned forward over his knees, shutting his eyes, flinching against the stinging pain that returned to throb in his hand. He could hear the rasp in his own breathing as his throat tightened.

Damn it. So much for his breakthrough in the field of psychology then.

He felt a touch that he knew could only be Louis’ - a warm, soft hand cupping around the nape of his neck, squeezing very gently, fingers running gently up into his hairline.

“It’s fine, really.” Harry told him, shrugging his hand away. “There’s no need to fuss. I’m completely fine.”

….

The young doctor at the emergency room had kind, smiling eyes, and Louis warmed to her immediately as he watched her help Harry relax. While she chatted easily with him and examined his cuts, Simon was outside in the corridor, barking instructions at Liam. Louis positioned himself in the doorway of the examination cubicle in a dual attempt to block out the noise for Harry’s sake, and to try to figure out what they Simon was up to. Unfortunately, there was too much background noise to hear the details and Louis decided against asking directly. His elbow would carry bruises from Simon’s tight pinch as they walked in from the car, his hissing whisper still reverberating in Louis’ ear, warning him that he was neither wanted or needed here, and that he was just making Harry worse by winding him up and making him upset.

Part of Louis suspected there might be some truth in what he was saying, but that song was still with him, the song Harry had played in the Boardroom, his wish for Louis to stay around a little while. He couldn’t shake away the hope that the sentiment was still alive.

“You’re lucky,” the doctor told Harry, “no major damage done at all. Just that one deep cut along your middle knuckle that needs a couple of stitches, but we’ll clean the rest, make sure there’s no glass inside, bandage everything up, and you should heal up nicely in no time.”

“Thanks Dr Singh” Harry said, reading her name badge.

“Oh call me Savita, please,” she laughed, “I keep looking around for my Dad when people say that. Now, I’ll be back in a few minutes to fix that up once the local anesthetic has kicked in. In the meantime, do you think you can sit up fully and rest your hand here on this trolly? It’ll make it easier for me to get to work.”

Louis watched Harry try to shuffle over on the bed to put his hand where Savita had indicated. He found himself moving forward to help.

“Here, move over a bit.” Louis nudged his way to sit onto the bed directly behind Harry, “if you lean back on me, it’ll be more comfortable for you.”

He felt Harry puff out an impatient sigh. “I don’t need your help, Louis,” he muttered. “You don’t need to hang around. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

Louis bit his lip. Harry’s mood had been alternating between a cheery breeziness and sulky irritation ever since they got into the car. Normally, Louis’ patience would have worn thin by now, but he managed to keep his mouth shut and instead he laid an arm across Harry’s front, pulling him close against his chest, so Harry could sit upright while resting back against him.

“See? Isn’t that easier?” he told him. When Harry remained silent he continued, “And don’t worry, I do have somewhere to be today, as it happens, so I’ll be out of your hair as soon as this is done.”

They sat quietly for a while, waiting for the doctor to return and listening to the bustle of the hospital outside the cubicle. Louis tried not to think too much about the feeling of having Harry so close, his scent of sweet, dark spices, the hard muscle beneath the cotton of his shirt, the heat of his skin.

Suddenly Harry took a sharp breath and said, “Why didn’t you answer your phone? All those times I tried to call you? I thought we were … weren’t we beginning something? Why’d you cut me out like that?”

And he gasped for another deep breath after speaking, like it has cost him effort to speak the words. Louis felt a creeping tension turning Harry’s body rigid inside his arms, and he fought a rising urge to grasp the boy’s shoulders and shake him hard in frustration.

“Why?” Louis pursed his lips and tried to keep his tone even, “After you sent a text saying you couldn’t fit me in your schedule? Sorry for not wanting to be the kind of sap who’s happy to hang around waiting for to be summoned for a booty call.”

And yet, Louis guts twisted at his next thought - Harry wrote that song. That song didn’t sound like it was sung by a guy looking for a booty call.

Harry gasped and choked out, “That’s such bull. You didn’t give me a chance. I didn’t even send that text. If you’d have just talked to -”

He cut off his sentence as Savita bustled back in with a nurse in tow and they got to work on Harry’s hand. Louis felt him try to moderate his shaky breathing as they began scrubbing his cuts clean, but eventually his control waned and his inhalations quickened until he was gasping for air. Louis could feel the flutter of Harry’s heart underneath his hand where it rested on Harry’s chest.

And all the while this was happening to Harry, all Louis could think about was the sentence Harry had just uttered, that kept clanging around in his head like a cymbal crash … I didn’t even send that text.

Savita looked kindly at Harry, reaching to squeeze his elbow as he wheezed and coughed shallowly. “Hey, we can take a break if you need a minute.”

He shook his head, and rubbed his good hand across the sheen of sweat on his face. “No, it’s OK,” he panted, “I don’t know why this is happening. I’m trying to … I can make it stop.” 

As he fought again to take a proper breath, Louis leaned back from his heaving shoulders, about to get up. “I’m probably not helping. I can leave if you’d be more comfortable talking with your doctor -” 

“No!” Harry’s left hand clutched desperately at Louis’ wrist, tightening a white circle into his skin. “No, Louis, please! Don’t fucking go again? Please?” 

Louis instantly dropped back down and wrapped his arms around him, “Sure, I’ll stay. Whatever you want.”

“Right … what I want,” Harry whispered hoarsely, and a horribly wry smile twisted on his lips.

And then a sob wracked through Harry, and he swiped angrily at the hot tears that were suddenly springing from his eyes. “God! I’m such a... Fucking hell … sorry. I can’t stop it.” His whole body was trembling now and Louis could swear he could actually hear his heart thundering in his chest.

Savita was gently rubbing Harry’s arm, “Don’t fight it, just breath in with Louis. Count in for five… That’s it. Now hold for two and let it out for five again... OK, that was great. Now keep it going. This will pass.”

Louis felt Harry struggle to match his breathing, his breath hitching mid-way through their counts, and his eyes still spilling, but gradually the rate of his breathing steadied, and he wiped his face again, sniffing away the angry tears. 

Louis let his face fall forward until his forehead was resting on Harry’s shoulder. He only then realised his own heart had been racing too, and that it was now slowly calming with Harry’s.

“So, I gather this wasn’t exactly an accident, Harry. Do you still feel an urge to hurt yourself?” Savita was asking him, gently, and Harry’s face burned. 

“No!” his voice sounded shaky but he peered anxiously at Savita. “No, and I really mean that, honestly. I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt myself. I don’t do that. I don’t want to do that. It was just …… I just …”

He pressed the heel of his good hand into his forehead. “I really just needed air. I can’t breath sometimes and the window wouldn’t open, and I … It was stupid, I know. I lost control or something. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause this fuss and worry everyone.”

Savita had started stitching the bad cut now. Louis turned away so he didn’t have to watch, and concentrated instead on keeping a slow and steady rate of breathing, pressing his face against Harry’s neck, hoping it might help him somehow.

“I had some problems like that when I was a kid,” Harry continued hesitantly, “when … well my parents were splitting up and then my Nan died around the same time and I … it was the same thing … I couldn’t breath sometimes. They had to bring me to see someone about it and it … went away. But, it’s been happening a bit again lately. Not usually as bad as today. Today was … I dunno.”

“How often has it been happening lately?” Savita’s voice held no judgement, just professional reassurance, as though she and Harry were discussing her recommendations for a course of vitamins. 

“Um, it depends really. I guess … lately … it’s maybe about twice a day.”

Louis couldn’t help tightening his arms around Harry on hearing that. He thought of him on his own in hotel or dressing rooms, struggling to breath, knowing he had to go out and perform and smile and charm everyone just a few minutes later. Louis thought what a very lonely experience that must be and a wave of guilt crashed over him when he thought of those unanswered phone calls.

“Oh fucking hell!” Harry swore suddenly, “I’m going fucking nuts, aren’t I?”

Savita laughed gently. “Well, since there is no known medical condition called “Fucking Nuts” I can categorically tell you that no, that isn’t my diagnoses. I’m going to give you something for now to help you feel calmer, and then we’ll need to get you an appointment with a psychologist so you can work out some coping strategies for the anxiety attacks. This is quite common Harry. Don’t worry, once you address it properly you’ll be feeling better in no time.”

The cubicle curtain swung open then and Simon entered, and Louis swallowed at his pout of disapproval when he saw Louis sitting so closely to Harry. Louis found himself automatically standing up, moving away, and he immediately hated himself for it.

“All OK then?” Simon was asking, nodding at Harry’s hand.

“All fine, yeah,” Harry told him, swinging his legs down, “So sorry again Simon. Hope I didn’t freak everyone out.”

Simon stepped further in and stood beside Harry, putting his hand on his shoulder and Louis watched Harry wilt slightly under it. Louis rolled his eyes and braced himself for Simon addressing Harry as “son” within the next few minutes.

“Well, listen Harry,” Simon started, “I know some good people based in a clinic - the Priory - people with lots of experience with this type of artist exhaustion issue. I’ve booked you in. We’ll get you there straight away and you can stay there until you feel better.”

“What?” Harry leaned backwards in alarm. 

“Harry,” Simon sighed impatiently, “despite what you no doubt believe, or what your friend here has been telling you, I do care about your welfare. I think you should just go along and have a chat with the therapists. No one’s forcing you to do this but believe me, this is the best thing for you right now.”

Harry quickly glanced at Savita, who was writing up notes on a clipboard. She smiled at Harry, and nodded encouragingly.

“Just go along and meet with them, Harry.” Simon continued. “If you want to leave after a day or two - fine. That’s your decision. But it would be irresponsible of me let you go straight back to work after what happened today. You should take this opportunity, Harry. They’re good people. They know what they’re doing.”

Harry dropped his head and Louis looked up to Liam who had come to stand in the doorway. They exchanged worried expressions. For once, Louis didn’t know what to say. He felt an urge to encourage Harry to get some help, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that anything Simon offered would ever benefit anyone but Simon ultimately.

“OK,” Harry said, eventually, his voice nothing more than a rasp, “I’ll go.”

“Great.” Simon grinned toothily, “Liam’ll sort it out now, and we’ll talk in a couple of days.” He patted Harry’s shoulder again. “Take care then, son.”

And there it was, Louis thought, bingo. 

“This isn’t going to end up in the papers, is it Simon?” Harry asked just as Simon was about to disappear through the doorway. His voice sounded so hopeless that Louis shuddered. 

Simon paused and looked over his shoulder. “I shouldn’t think so, Harry. Although, no doubt your fans will be wondering about canceled appearances over the next while. We should probably put out some kind of statement. I’ll get Stacey to work something out with you.”

Liam stood aside to let him leave without raising his gaze from the floot. He quietly told Harry he’d get the car to come around to the front and would text him when it was there. Then he was gone too and it was just Harry and Louis left.

“Well, I suppose unless I run away to the circus there isn’t really anything else I can do just now, right?” Harry muttered, glancing back at Louis.

And Louis couldn’t stop the a slow grin that spread across his face. “So, would you like to do that instead?” he asked Harry. “Because you can, you know. If you really want to. Just take off. It’s easy.”

And Harry met his eyes and for the first time that day, Louis saw a sparkle appear there. Harry nodded uncertainly.

Louis rubbed hands together, “Right! Running away to the circus it is then!”


	24. The Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry escapes and meets Louis' family. And he thought _he_ was crazy.

Harry followed Louis out through the cubicle doorway and along the corridor of the treatment area, watching guiltily as he rolled up his blood stained hoodie and tucked it under his arm.

“Sorry! Before you leave, would you mind just …” one of the nurses was rushing after them, holding out a pen and paper. Harry watched Louis’ face redden and his eyes flash. Harry’s other emotions ebbed slightly to make way for his amusement at watching Louis’ struggle to contain his anger. 

“Listen lady,” Louis kept his voice menacingly low, “That is seriously crass. I can’t believe anyone would be this unprofessional - hassling someone for autographs when they’re in hospital getting an injury treated? Where’s your manager? I want to speak to them.”

“I just, um, sorry, I just,” the nurse blushed furiously, “I just needed him to sign the discharge form.” 

Louis stared blankly back at her.

“It’s an insurance thing,” the nurse explained sharply.

Harry couldn’t hold in the flood of giggles that overtook him then as Louis rushed to apologise and babbled profuse thanks to the woman for her competence and undeniable efficiency. Harry signed the form, struggling with the pen inside his bandaged hand, and thanked her too.

“Shut up, Styles,” Louis muttered, blushing again when he caught sight of the grin that was still on Harry’s face.

“No, it was so sweet, really,” Harry chuckled, “launching that attack on the poor innocent woman. You’re such a mama bear, Louis.” He burst out laughing again. “God. Thanks though. I needed a laugh.”  
Louis eye’s flashed suddenly and he raised an eyebrow. “Well, are we going to stand around here all day or are we putting this escape plan into operation or what?”

Harry remembered someone telling him once, that you never really knew a person’s true character, until you saw how they handled a crisis. So, if today’s events were considered to be a crisis of sorts, then it turned out Louis’ true character was utterly ridiculous. Because Louis suddenly winked and burst into a rendition of the Mission Impossible theme tune and ushered Harry along the hospital corridor behind him, pulling him down with him to squat behind laundry carts, spinning into doorways, and slinking flat along the walls. 

Louis brought them to a halt just inside the treatment area exit door, and asked, “Did you get that text from Liam about the car yet?” 

Harry bit his lip and said, “Actually, it might be better to get a taxi. We don’t need to tell Liam anything, do we?”

Louis glanced back at him and paused. Harry felt his eyes taking him in. “Do you need to sit down for a minute?” Louis asked eventually, “You’re pretty pale.”

Harry’s brain took a moment to link the word “pretty” to “pale” and a flare of hope briefly rose and then just as quickly fell inside his chest. He was still feeling shaky but the pills the doctor had prescribed were tucked safely in his pocket and felt like a safety valve. He wasn’t sure if he’d take any yet, but knowing they were there was reassuring. 

“I’m -” 

“- fine” Louis finished with him. “Yeah. I always punch windows and have panic attacks and cry when I’m fine too.”

Harry frowned at the floor. “What do you want me to say then? I’m a mess, but I’m not going to fall over right now, thanks?”

“Well, yeah!” Louis blurted, putting his hands on his hips, “if that’s the truth.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the ceiling, “You’re a bit exasperating, Louis.”

Louis grinned at him, like he had just been paid a compliment but took his elbow and tugged him towards the doors. “I know. Well, we all have our talents, I suppose.”

Now Harry found himself smiling as they walked. Louis was impossible.

But,” Louis continued, “to be honest, I don’t really blame you for cutting out on Simon now. I really don’t think anyone should trust his judgement after what he was planning to do with your music.”

Harry shrugged, “Yeah, if I went to that place I’d probably have ended up with a lobotomy or something.”

“Hmmm … although … who’s to say that wouldn’t be an improvement?” Louis mused, scratching his chin.

Harry felt his lips twist into a reluctant smile. “Oh, thank you. You always seem to know just what to say Louis.” 

“Well you know, as long as you can still sing and dance, no one at work would really care if the rest of your brain worked, would they? Although, come to think of it, scrap the dancing. If that could be eliminated from your repertoire, the world could only be a better place.”

“Can I just ask, is this your version of trying to make me feel better?” Harry asked, now laughing in disbelief at Louis. They had made it outside and were walking quickly towards the line of taxis that waited at the edge of the hospital car park. “I don’t think you’re suppose to say mean things to someone who is in the middle of having a nervous breakdown, you know.”

“I’m not being mean. I like seeing you laugh. It makes you look really goofy.”

Harry tried to look offended but knew another smile was plastered across his face.

“And Harry,” Louis squeezed his arm and pulled him up to peer into his face, Harry’s heart thumping at his expression, “you aren’t having a nervous breakdown. You’re just upset. It’s ok to feel angry and pissed off and sad sometimes. It doesn’t make you crazy. It makes you human. You’re having a hard time now but you just need to find a way to deal with the crappy stuff. Call up Niall to have a moan or, write a song, or, shout at someone, I don’t know. Whatever works.”

Harry blinked and tried to imagine what life would be like if it was that easy but instead of arguing with Louis, he asked, “Is that what you do?”

Louis’ expression darkened suddenly. “Yeah,” he muttered, “something like that.”

 

“Where to?” the taxi driver asked, as Louis and Harry slipped onto the back seat.

Harry felt his mouth open but nothing came out. Beside him, Louis was looking at him quizzically. “I … um …” The taxi driver’s eyes narrowed at him in the rear view mirror.

“Niall’s?” Louis suggested but Harry shook his head. Niall knew him too deeply. Harry had been avoiding him for weeks, knowing that any pretence of coping would dissolve completely in Niall’s presence.

“What about your Mum’s?”

“We can’t take a taxi to Cheshire, Louis.” Harry said and saw the driver huff in irritation in the seat in front of him.

“Well,” Louis said quietly, “you can hang with me for a little while, until you figure it out?”

Harry nodded as Louis gave an address to the driver.

“Just,” Louis continued, pulling a phone out of his pocket, “I have to go to my Mum’s now. It might be a bit loud. But you’ll be fine.” 

And OK, that at first seemed like a reasonable suggestion, until Harry listened to the conversation Louis embarked upon on his phone.

“No Mum, don’t let them clobber the sharks until I get there - I won’t be long promise… … No, the blood is for the cupcakes, just drizzle it over … … And I’ve put the mice in the freezer for Slinky so don’t forget to take one out to thaw for later … thanks Mum, and sorry I’m late… No, just a friend got in a spot of bother and we had to go to hospital but we’re on the way now. He’s coming too, is that ok? … … Harry … Yes, that Harry. … Right, see you soon. Love you.”

Louis pocketed his phone and smiled broadly Harry’s wide-eyed expression. 

“Don’t look so scared. It’s all good.”

“What’s happening now exactly?” Harry asked nervously.

“It’s the babies’ birthday today - they’re three. It’ll be fun.”

“Right,” Harry nodded and looked out the window. Babies and sharks and mice and blood … all righty then. Harry tried very hard to remember Louis’ reassurance that his sanity was still intact as the taxi ploughed through the busy streets.

 

Louis groaned slightly when they arrived at his Mum’s house. “Oh shit, they’re all here. This was supposed to be staggered. Just give me a minute.”

He tumbled out of the taxi, quickly thrust some notes at the driver, before hurrying inside the house, scooping up a couple of half-deflated balloons that were drifting through the ajar front door. A babble of voices emanated from inside, and Harry wondered how many people could possibly fit inside this modest terraced house. Maybe it was the Tardis. Maybe Louis was Doctor Who. It might possibly explain certain things.

“Mum!” Louis called, disappearing through the door, “I’m here!” A cat shot out past his legs like a bullet.

“Slinky?” Harry called gently after it. It stopped on the footpath and looked back at Harry with an expression that was truly withering.

“That’s not Slinky!” 

“Yeah, like, who would call a cat Slinky? That would be a such a stupid name for a cat!”

Two blond heads peered out the doorway. Harry recognised the shade of blue of their eyes immediately. The two little girls were clearly Louis’ sisters, but Harry was confused, because these were definitely older than three. These girls looked about eight. Eight going on thirty-five, or thereabouts.

“Who are you?” one of the girls asked, while the other crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Um, I’m Harry?” Harry said nervously, “I’m Louis’ friend? He said it would be OK to visit for a little while?”

“Harry Styles?” the crossed-arms one said, “the singer?”

They mirrored each other by raising their eyebrows.

“Yep, that’s me alright.” Harry smiled at them, preparing himself for their inevitable excitement. He loved spending time with his littlest fans - they were always so unabashedly enthusiastic.

“Stupid name for a singer,” one of the girls said to the other, rolling her eyes. Her sister giggled and added, “Yeah. Stupid name for a boy, full stop.”

“Stupid name, stupid clothes.”

They high-fived each other.

“Well, what are your names then? Maybe they’re stupid too!” Harry found himself protesting, feeling very much ganged-up on. 

“We don’t tell our names to strangers,” one said, while the other agreed with a “Yeah, how stupid would that be?”

“OK girls, we’re going! Give your brother a hug. We’ll see him Thursday for dinner.” A man walked out the doorway, briefly resting his hands on top of the twins heads as he passed by. To Harry’s alarm, there seemed to be a procession of people following him, but at least Louis was amongst them, smiling cheerily.

“Hi darlin’s! Were you making friends with Harry?” Louis called, as the twins rushed to hug him.

“No,” a muffled voice said.

“They’re so adorable, aren’t they?” Louis beamed at Harry, clasping his sisters to him.

No, Harry thought, but he just smiled back fixedly.

“Girls, I hope you were being nice,” a dark-haired woman appeared beside Louis, stroking the two blond heads that were attached to his chest.

“No, we weren’t,” one of the little voices said, and a second one giggled.

“God, they are such monsters. Louis, you need to sort them out.” a teenage girl said, walking out after the man and sitting into the front seat of the car he had unlocked.

“What?!” Louis looked aghast, but Harry noticed, not all that surprised, “Now listen girls, poor Harry hurt his hand today and he is feeling a bit sad, so please be kind like I know you can be.”

“Bye Louis,” another teenager appeared, younger than the first one kissing Louis’ cheek as she walked by. “See ya Thursday.” She did a double-take when she saw Harry, and then blushed deeply. 

“Oh um, hi. Can I take a picture with you?” she asked, barely able to meet Harry’s eyes.

“No, definitely not.” Louis said, cutting off Harry as he was just about to agree. “Fizz, get into the car. Harry’s our guest. And if you post anything about him being here, I will personally share that photo of you in the fleece onesie from Christmas.”

Fizz huffed, but slumped off towards the car without argument. Then, one of the twins pulled her head away from Louis’ body and quietly asked, “Is Harry sad like Mummy gets sometimes?”

Louis shot a quick glance in Harry’s direction and then looked down into his little sister’s face. “Yeah, a little bit like that,” he said quietly.

“Oh.” 

The twin girls peeled themselves off Louis and looked at each other for a second, before coming to some unspoken agreement, and suddenly galloping down the hallway and out the door to fling themselves violently against Harry. He felt their arms meet tightly around his waist and could only bend over them to return their hug properly.

“We were only joking Harry!”

“We like your name, really! It suits you, ‘cause you’re really stylin’.”

“And we like your songs. Louis makes us listen all the time and we always sing the words.”

“We like that angel song the best.”

“Yeah. And we like your other clothes - the pretty ones that have flowers.”

“And Slinky is over there in the hall. He likes everyone except mice so he’ll like you too. Don’t worry.”

“He doesn’t care about stupid hair, Harry.”

Harry felt his eyes get hot as he laughed into the twin’s embrace. He saw Louis smiling down at them. “They’re so like you,” he told him, and snickered at Louis’ confused expression. Harry gave the two girls one last squeeze and said, “OK, then. Thanks. I’m good now.”

They galloped off, giggling madly and dove through the open car door that waited for them.

“So, Thursday then, alright?” the man was saying gruffly to Louis, who nodded. “Goodbye Jay. You’ll take care of yourself?” the man continued. And Harry noticed the woman’s eyes drop to the ground and sigh slightly before she roused herself again to wave through the car windows at the girls.

“Bye sweethearts! See you soon!” 

“Bye Mummy!” 

The man nodded at Louis, “You go and apologise and get your job back, Louis. This is getting ridiculous. You are going to have to learn to keep your mouth shut. Being right isn’t always the most important thing, you know.”

Now Louis was frowning at the ground, until the man pulled Louis into a rough, brief hug, muttering something that sounded to Harry like “Be a good lad,” and he hopped into the car and it pulled away in a flurry of waves and smiles.

 

Harry followed Louis’ gesture to come into the house, and paused briefly at the huge cage in the hallway, where a long snake was draped languidly along a tree branch.

“Slinky, I presume?” Harry said to it, “So apparently there’s blood on the cupcakes? If I’m not back here in 1 hour, will you tell my family I love them and it’s donations to Save the Dolphins in lieu of flowers?”

Slinky blinked back in acknowledgement, and Harry continued along the corridor, trying to figure out the voices emanating from the doorway at the end of the corridor.

“It’s not an issue, Jay. I just thought you said Louis would be here, that’s all,” a man’s voice was saying.

“I got delayed, but I’m here now, alright? It isn’t her fault.” Louis sounded like he was trying very hard to conceal his impatience.

“Bash! Bash! Bash!” Harry heard small voices shrieking from far away.

“No, we’ll bash in two minutes, OK?” Louis called back to them.

“And you’re here now, for the night, yes? Definitely?” the man’s voice asked.

“Oh for goodness sake, Dan I’m not that bad.” Louis mother said exasperatedly.

“Yes, I’ll be here for the night Dan. Don’t worry. We’ll call you if they get homesick or anything.”

Harry peered in through the doorway to find a kitchen displaying the ragged remains of a birthday party. The theme seemed to have been somehow nautical - fish-shaped balloons were drifting loosely around, the remnants of the cake featured a smiling pirate, and a large shark pinata hung in the open doorway to the garden. Some rather tragic left-over cupcakes featured decorations of blue buttercream icing on top of which various human limbs trailed strawberry coulis “blood”, while shark fin shaped licorice circled around the edges. Harry blinked at them for a while. He was suddenly nervous about meeting these three-year olds.

Beside the table, Louis stood between his mother and a worried looking dark-haired man, who held a set of keys in his hand.

“And don’t forget to let them feed Slinky,” he was saying, “They love doing that.”

“Just go, Dan. If you start stressing they’ll only pick up on it and get upset.” Louis told him.

“OK. OK then.” The man frowned and called through the back door out into the garden, “Bye kids! See you in the morning!”

“Rarrrrrrrrrr!” 

Harry blinked at the loud response and then jumped slightly as two blond-haired cannonballs thundered into the kitchen, whamming into the man’s legs before releasing him just as fast and swirling around the kitchen, waving - what looked to Harry like - very realistic clubs. They screamed “Bash sharky! Bash sharky!” as they ran. 

“We better just let them, Louis,” the woman smiled, “they’ve been waiting for hours.”

“All right monsters!” Louis shouted, “Go and bash!”

The two small people demolished the shark pinata in no time, while their Dad quietly slipped away. The pair then tore back into the garden for a victory lap without a glance at the rainfall of sweets that fell from the disemboweled pinata body.

“Mum, this is Harry.” Louis said, clapping his hand on his forehead, like he suddenly remembered that he was there. “Harry, this is my mother, Jo.”

“My goodness Harry, you certainly picked a day to visit!” Jo laughed, reaching out a hand to him, and stopping suddenly when she saw his bandage and blood stained clothes. “Oh! You poor thing! What’s happened?”

“Just a little run-in with some glass at work,” Louis explained hurriedly, while waddling through the door with a child clamped on to each leg. “He’s fine.” Louis winked at Harry before continuing, “Mum, you wouldn’t stick on the kettle would you? We’re dying for a cuppa.”

 

And to Harry’s great relief, things seemed to quiet down a little then. Jo whisked the twins out to the hall to give Slinky his dinner, and then the sounds of bathtime splashing and singing meandered down from upstairs as the kids were prepared for bed.

Louis gave Harry a tracksuit to wear and stuck their stained clothes in the washing machine, and they moved back into the kitchen for tea and leftovers. 

“Are you sure its OK for me to be here?” Harry asked and Louis rolled his eyes because it must have been the 15th time Harry had checked. He shoved a sausage roll in Harry’s mouth to shut him up, and started distractedly tidying up. 

“Will you please stop asking that? My Mum loves when I bring my friends over. You can even crash the night if you want. There’s lots of spare beds.”

Harry swallowed, glad that his styling team couldn’t see him indulging in more carbs than he had been allowed in months. He looked at Louis fill the sink with steaming water and found himself asking, “So, we’re OK then? We’re friends?”

Louis frowned into the sink of suds in front of him. “Of course,” he said eventually, “that’s a good idea. Let’s be friends.”

He shot a quick smile over his shoulder at Harry, who couldn’t help noticing it didn’t quite reach Louis’ eyes. But he smiled back, and never knew that Louis noticed the smile hadn’t reached Harry’s eyes either.


	25. Bedside Locker Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry investigates Louis' bedside locker. It brings more revelations than he could have expected. For the first time in his life, Louis experiences real intimacy and it brings tears to his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters posted together for your reading pleasure...because they are finished, so why not! Hope you enjoy.

Louis woke abruptly, his whole being tensed, alert. The darkness around him felt like a held breath, caught in response to a cry of alarm.

He pulled himself from his warm bed and shuffled down the hallway, unsure, but knowing he’d chase sleep for the rest of the night unless he checked. He tapped lightly on his sister’s bedroom door and pushed in it, listening to it whispering against the carpet underneath.

Harry was sitting in his boxers on the end of the bed, curled forward, arms folded tight to his stomach, hair loose and hiding his face.

Louis walked over and sank beside him on the mattress, placing a hand on his bare shoulder. “Hey kid. What is it?”

“Just a stupid dream. God, I didn’t shout, did I?” Harry twisted his face slightly away from Louis.

Louis patted his shoulder as a shiver ran along Harry’s body, goosebumps appearing on his skin.

“Can’t seem to sleep for longer than a couple of hours lately. Keep waking up with my heart’s hammering. Like now - feel it.” Harry grasped Louis hand and brought it to his chest, pressing it flat against his skin. Louis felt its galloping pace thumping against his palm.

“Not having a nervous breakdown is just a laugh a minute, Lou. Really.” Harry laughed wryly, as he dropped Louis’ hand and picked at the edge of the bandage around his wrist.

Louis tucked a strand of hair behind Harry’s ear. He just wanted to see his face but that was a mistake. Because once he did, he just wanted to kiss it. He pulled his hands back and placed them determinedly on his own knees.

“Do you think I should take those pills they gave me?” Harry asked quietly.

“I don’t know. What did the doctor say?”

“Just to take one if I felt a panic attack coming on. I don’t know - I’m afraid if I start taking them I won’t be able to stop. It’s not like they’re going to make any of the shit go away.”

Louis was quiet for a minute. He wasn’t sure what shit Harry was referring to and he suspected he wouldn’t tell him if he asked. All he said was, “Well, do you feel like an attack is coming on?”

Harry looked at Louis directly then, for the first time. He smiled gently, looking into Louis’ eyes. In the dark, Louis realised he couldn’t tell the colour of Harry’s - they just seemed endlessly deep, somewhere he could get lost.

“No. Not now you’re here.” Harry whispered, “I feel OK when you’re here.”

Louis didn’t know what his expression revealed then, but Harry immediately dropped his gaze, and muttered, “Sorry.”

Then he spoke again. “I think the last time I slept right through a whole night was the last time we were together - you know? Our terrible date?”

He was asking as if Louis might have forgotten. “So, no sleeping when you were with that model? What’s her name? Georgia? Good to know.” Louis didn’t know why he couldn’t keep his mouth shut sometimes.

Harry pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them.

“You really know how to be an arse sometimes Louis.” Harry muttered into his limbs.

And Louis was about to argue back, point out the unreasonableness of Harry’s insult when he had been the one to dismiss Louis’ so casually after that night. But then his own brain reminded him of all of Harry’s unanswered calls and told him to shut up because, in fairness, maybe Harry had a point. And then. Maybe he didn’t, because hadn’t Harry gone off with a beautiful model and left Louis on his own? He sighed. It was late. He was too tired for this game of mental ping-pong his brain was inflicting on him.

“Can we just go back to bed?” he asked Harry. 

When Harry nodded and made to move, Louis reached for his hand. “Come on, you better bunk in with me.”

Harry looked up at him sharply.

“Just to sleep,” Louis told him firmly. “That’s all. You’ll feel better if you get a good night’s sleep.”

Yes. Louis congratulated himself. Friendly friendship. That would be the mature thing here. The least emotionally wringing course to take. But even in the dark, he could see Harry’s face transform into a huge smile as he walked hand in hand with him back to his room. And fuck. Why did he do this? Act like Louis was the sun in his universe when they were together? And then let himself wane into an empty eclipse whenever they parted?

 

“I’m not allowed to have boys stay over in my room, by the way,” Louis muttered into his pillow, but he shifted over in the narrow bed to press against the wall, making space for Harry behind him, “so you be quiet and go straight to sleep and don’t get me into trouble.” 

He felt Harry lay down alongside him, not touching except for one elbow pressing lightly into Louis’ back.

“I’m glad you always follow the rules, Louis.”

“Yeah. Sleep now.”

“And I’ll stay over this side, promise.”

“OK. Night night.”

“So you don’t have to worry about getting turned on by my hot bod and getting an embarrassing boner”

“Harry! What the fuck?!

“Just thought I should get that out there.”

“Harry. Seriously. Shut up.”

“Not a boner. Not getting a boner out. Didn’t mean to imply that.”

“Oh my God.”

“Ssshhhh … G’night Louis.”

 

They were quiet in the dark then, and Louis tried to sink back into sleep once Harry stopped chuckling to himself. But he was too aware of Harry behind him, emitting a constrained energy like a dark star. Louis concentrated very hard on slowing his breathing down, and keeping his body pressed into the cold wall in front of him.

After a while he felt Harry move and heard a creak and then some faint rattling. He tried to ignore it for a while but then he saw the glimmer of a light against his closed eyelids and groaned aloud.

“Styles!” he croaked, “What are you doing?” He rolled up onto one elbow to see that Harry had pulled open the drawer of his bedside locker and was peering inside using the light of Louis’ phone’s lockscreen to illuminate the inside.

In the halflight, Louis saw Harry’s dimples appear as he laughed softly. “Thought you’d gone back to sleep,” he whispered. “I was just trying to find out your dirty secrets.”

Louis rubbed at his face, giving up on the pretence of finding sleep. “What?”

“Everyone hides their deepest shames inside the top drawer of their bedside locker, Louis. It’s fascinating.”

Louis flumped back down onto his pillow, on his back this time, and watched Harry continue to rummage, sorting through a tangle of charger cables, a pack of cards, a very old ipod. “This is my childhood bedroom, Harry. You won’t find too many dirty secrets in there.”

He hoped.

“Oh really?” Harry said, and held up a small half-empty bottle of lube. Oh. Louis had forgotten about that.

“Looks like tonight might not be the first time you’ve broken the no boys staying over rule.”

“Well, sadly, that’s not the case,” Louis admitted with a wry grin, “A teenage boy’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. I didn’t really figure out how to pull until I moved out and went to college. There were a few lonely nights when I had to keep myself entertained.”

Harry laughed quietly. “Oh - so am I really the first boy to sleep in this bed with you?”

“Well, yes, apart from the fact that you’re refusing to sleep,” Louis grumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

“Wow. Well, it’s an honour to be your first, Louis. I promise I’ll be gentle. … Hmmm,” Harry pulled out a tube of something and examined it closely, “fungal infection ointment. Lovely.”

Louis buried his face behind his hands. 

“So maybe now we know why teenage Louis was stuck wanking alone. Bit of a sweaty feet situation happening back then, was there?”

“Harry, you are a little shit! Get out of there.”

“No, no, this is all very interesting Louis! And you thought this wouldn’t be fun. Now what’s this then?”

Louis peered between his fingers and watched Harry pull out a small notebook. “No Harry, that’s not-”

A few old photos dropped out when Harry opened the front cover and fell onto the mattress. Louis reached over Harry to grab them up and pulled them to his chest.

Harry giggled and twisted over to reach for them. “Oh what are you trying to hide from me Louis? Are they naked pictures? Was teenage Louis actually printing out dick-pics to send to his crushes?”

Louis rolled away from Harry to face the wall, clutching the photos tight to his chest. But Harry didn’t give up. He rolled over too and reached around Louis to try to wrangle the photos from his hands.

And god Louis was reminded of Harry’s height - he was suddenly enveloped by him, his hair falling across Louis’ face, long limbs entwining Louis’. Louis wriggled under him, not really sure if he really wanted to get further away, or press closer into him.

“Ouch,” Harry said suddenly and leaned back again, “my hand!”

Louis stopped moving and turned to Harry, concerned, but Harry leapt at the opportunity and grabbed the photos from Louis, rolling back to his own side and shining the phone at them.

“Ha! Fooled ya…” Then Harry took a quick breath. “Oh.” 

Louis slowly raised himself to sit up. He looked down at the photo in Harry’s hand.

“Is this her? Your sister? Maisie?” Harry asked in a whisper.

Louis nodded, taking in their faces, only small children then, both beaming over a birthday cake.

“She was your twin?” Harry asked, tracing their names on the icing of the cake.

“Yeah. Mum makes a lot of twins.”

“Wow. Three sets in one family. That’s mad.” Harry studied the picture. Louis did too. He hadn’t looked at it in a long time. Louis couldn’t really remember that celebration. He remembered other birthdays, propped at the end of Maisie’s hospital bed, everyone with surgical masks over their faces in case they brought in infections. Funny that he couldn’t remember this one - it looked like a happy one.

“It must have been really hard to lose a twin.” Harry said softly. He sat up beside Louis, and they both leaned back against the wall behind them. There wasn’t really enough space on the single bed for them both, so Harry was half on top of Louis, his shoulder overlapping Louis’, their hips pressing close.

Louis didn’t answer at first. He picked the other photos out of Harry’s hand and flicked through them quickly. Maisie and Louis’ first day at school, buttoned up in new uniforms. Louis feeding ducks in the park with Maisie in red wellingtons looking on. Maisie laid against pillows with a huge tube clamped over her nose and mouth, Louis beside her grinning behind an elephant mask. Toddler Maisie and Louis with their teddies propped onto pillows in front of them, slapping their backs in imitation of the chest tapping phsyio that Maisie underwent numerous times a day to keep her lungs clear.  
He gathered the photos and tucked them back inside the notebook, leaned over Harry to replace it in the drawer and shutting it closed. The light of the phone switched off and they were plunged into darkness.

“It was harder for Mum.” Louis said eventually, “To lose a child - well, any parent would struggle to handle that. But Maisie was like the centre of everything in our family, you know? She was so sick, everything sort of had to work around her. She needed so much and then when she died, it was like this huge vacuum that no one knew how to fill. No one actually knew what to do. Like literally, how to fill the days. I guess, as well, there was a lot of guilt and well, Mum sort of… didn’t want to be around any more. Or at least, didn’t know how to be.”

Louis stopped. He wasn’t sure why he was saying this. This was a topic he was skilled at veering away from. That old familiar coldness coiled inside his stomach. But then Harry was there, radiating warmth into his side.

“And then I guess, the girls were … well inevitably there’s questions like - aren’t we enough? Why doesn’t she want to stick around for us? So it was just a horrible, horrible mess. And their marriage went to shit and then there was Dan and the babies came along so that was better for a while. But you know, it’s not like real life has Happy Ever Afters. It’s up and down a lot, still. 

“Anyway. That’s why the others live with their Dads. It’s a lot better now, obviously. Mum’s better. And now I’m finished uni I can be here more, and take care of everyone. I just really need to get a proper job and then I’ll be able to do more for the kids. Like, we’ve never all been on a holiday together, you know? I just want to be able to do stuff like that for them. Give them some happy memories.”

“Fuck... Louis.” Harry breathed.

“It is what it is.”

“But … what about you?” Harry murmured, after a long pause, “Who takes care of you?”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I just get on with everything and if it gets on top of me I go out for a night and get shitfaced and find a shag and then get back to it. It works.”

Louis felt Harry turn and stare at him but he twisted away to face the wall.

“Stop looking at me like that. I fucking hate that. I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

“You can’t even see how I’m looking at you!” Harry sighed exasperatedly. “Look!” He pressed the phone on again and shone it in his own face, pulling at Louis’ chin to turn him back to look at him. “I wasn’t pitying you. I was admiring you. This is my admiring you face.”

Louis took in Harry’s blazing eyes and the deep frown between his brows. And he could only smile. Smile and give in to the huge swell of fondness that overwhelmed him. Harry. Just… Harry being Harry right then was everything he didn’t know he needed. 

“Your admiring me face looks kinda the same as an annoyed at me face.” Louis laughed.

“Oh.” Harry slapped a hand over his mouth, “I guess I might have moved on to being slightly annoyed. Hang on.”

Harry rearranged his expression into a soft, moon-eyed, gaze, blinking slowly up at Louis through his long eyelashes.

Louis snorted. “That’s how you were looking at me just now?”

“Yep.” Harry grinned. “Exactly like that.”

“Huh. Attractive. Well I suppose at least it’s better than this one.” Louis crossed his eyes and let his tongue hang sideways out of his mouth.

Harry spluttered into laughter. “What was that?”

“That was your come face.”

Harry collapsed over his knees, honking, “You fucker, that is not my come face.”

“Sssh! Don’t wake up the kids.”

Harry jerked back upright, his mouth stretched open wide, his eyes dementedly rolling back in his head, making a horrible choking noise in the back of his throat. “That’s your come face,” he told Louis. “It’s disgraceful.”

Louis put his hand over Harry’s face, and tried to push him out of the bed, but Harry swung his arm around the back of Louis neck and pulled him in tight to him, making him fall over on top of him.  
They wrestled a little, pushing at each other without true purpose, giggling breathlessly, trying to keep from making too much noise, and then they both quietly stilled. They ended up with Louis balancing over Harry, on his knees across Harry’s thighs, arms locked either side of Harry’s shoulders. They looked into each others’ eyes for a long time, unmoving, until Harry reached to stroke gentle fingers along Louis’ jaw. 

Louis reached for Harry’s hand, pulling it away from his face, but unable to let go. He sat back on his haunches. “We shouldn’t.”

Harry nodded, like he agreed. But then he pulled Louis’ hand to his mouth and pressed the back of Louis’ fingers over his softly parted lips. Louis felt the damp heat of his breath and it wrought a shiver down to the base of his spine. He felt himself growing hard.

“We keep fucking things up.” Louis continued shakily. “I think … I might … maybe … expect too much or something like that.”

Harry nodded again, his hair splayed around his head on the pillow, eyelids low, breathing heavily. “OK.” He turned Louis’ hand over and kissed the inside of his wrist. Then he unfolded Louis’s fingers and nudged his flushed cheek into Louis’ palm, peering up darkly. 

“Whatever you want Lou. It’s all up to you.” He whispered.

“I want us to be friends.” Louis whispered back, “I think that’s best.”

But his hand moved anyway, slowly trailing his fingers down along Harry’s neck, over his collar bones. He reached Harry’s chest and placed his palm flat over Harry’s heart, and felt it thumping there beneath his skin.

“Still racing,” Harry told him. “Different reason though.”

Louis trailed his hand further down along Harry’s torso, over his ribs, along the side of his tummy, watching his muscles flex in response. He reached the bones of Harry’s hips and traced their angles, until his fingers reached the top of Harry’s underwear. He flicked his eyes up to Harry’s face and, who was he kidding, this wasn’t something within his power to resist.

He gripped Harry’s hips in both hands and ground his crotch into Harry’s, rubbing himself against Harry’s hardness, shivering all over at their shared arousal.

“God, I want to fuck though,” Louis whispered to him, “I want to be with you.”

“Oh thank Christ,” Harry moaned quietly to the ceiling, “I think I would have cried again if you said no.”

 

Louis hadn’t ever had sex like this before. 

Had anyone ever had sex like this before? It didn’t seem possible. This seemed like a thing they had both created anew, something tender and delicate, a secret discovery only they shared.

If Louis’ rational mind was engaged, he might have supposed that it was different now that they had both revealed something of their real selves to each other, since they had exposed some of their vulnerabilities. But all Louis knew was that he was adrift in a dark wilderness of heat and sensation and that every touch, every panted breath, every whisper shared between them, all conflagrated into a fervour that left him both weak and emboldened, and that crossing this wilderness together felt like coming home.

He held Harry’s face between his hands and rocked into his lap, bursts of sweet sensation triggered each time Harry hit that spot deep inside him. He moved his legs to tighten them around Harry and pushed his heels into Harry’s buttocks to pull draw him in deeper, because they could never be too close, he could never have too much of this. His fingers wound tight into Harry’s hair and Harry’s fingers bit deep into his hips and their foreheads pressed together, and they gasped into each other’s mouths, until Louis found himself falling backwards, Harry still inside him, holding him tight and moving with him. And then Louis was on his back with Harry over him, and he was powerless, spread open and moving into the mattress with each of Harry’s careful thrusts. His head was falling back off the end of the bed and Louis felt hot tears spill from his eyes and run down the side of his face into his hair when Harry’s fist brought him off, and he whimpered helplessly into Harry’s neck when he came inside him soon after, his entire body shuddering with it.

Then they lay face to face, close and sweaty on Louis’ tiny single bed, Harry dried the fading traces of Louis’ tears with the rough gauze of his bandaged hand, and his hot, open mouth pressed against Louis’ flushed skin, over and again until their pulses steadied. They gazed into each others’ eyes for a long time and kissed hard and intensely, kisses that eased into tenderness, until their lips barely brushed against each other and it seemed that the air exhaled between them was part of their caresses. As they fell slowly into a dreamless sleep, they curled into each other, limbs entwined, Louis’ cheek against Harry’s over-warm forehead. Inside their embrace, Harry whispered, “Louis, it’ll be me. I’m going to be the one to take care of you. I promise.” 

But by then, dark unconsciousness had taken hold of Louis, and Harry’s words were whisked away and tucked into some deeply hidden part of him so he never again remembered them being spoken. Their meaning, however, stayed echoing inside him forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This night marks a turning point in their relationship. But they're not quiet out of the woods yet, as the lovely Taylor might put it. But they're getting there.


	26. A Strong Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugs.

Louis faced an abrupt awakening the next morning when, after becoming faintly aware of a scurry of footsteps, his prone body was suddenly attacked with at least fifty iron hammers raining down on him all at once … or at least that’s what his siblings feet felt like as they launched themselves through his bedroom door to bounce up and down on top of his barely-awake body.

“Hey, hey…” Harry said to them, following them in through the open door and gently pulling them away, tucking a giggling toddler under each arm, “your big brother is not a trampoline, kiddos.”

“Ugh, thanks,” Louis groaned, shuffling up into a sitting position, rubbing his stomach, “guess I should have warned you about how violent mornings get around here.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve been having fun,” Harry grinned at him, “they like my jokes.” The twins wriggled free and reached under the duvet for each of Louis’ feet, tugging hard in an attempt to drag him backwards out of bed.

“Here Harry, let’s try this,” Jo appeared in the doorway, and dropped Harry’s laundered clothes onto a chair, before coming over to him with a small plastic bag. Louis watched her push up his hoodie sleeve and tape his bandaged hand inside the plastic. “Should keep it dry enough to get you through a shower anyway,” she told him, patting his shoulder.

“Thank you, Jo.” Harry smiled at her.

“And Louis will have your breakfast ready by the time you’re finished, won’t you Boo?” Jo said to Louis then, raising an eyebrow at him. “We can’t have your guest doing all the babysitting and dish-washing while you laze away up here!”

“OK, OK, I’ll be up in two minutes,” Louis said, yawning loudly.

Jo shepherded the kids out of the room, and Harry came over to sit on the bed. “Good morning, Louis,” he said in a serious tone, before a slow smirk gradually invaded his features.

Louis smiled sleepily back at him, studying Harry’s face. It was a good face. Even with that cheeky grin and the teasing gleam in his eyes.

“Good morning, Harry,” he said, trying to mirror his formality, but his croaky morning voice totally failed in its duty. 

And then Harry leaned in and gathered him up into an enveloping hug, tucking his face into Louis’ neck. Louis’ surprise kept him still for only a second before he melted into the embrace, reaching his arms around Harry’s back to press their chests close, smiling into his hair. He rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder. This was nice. Morning hugs were nice. This was a good morning - having Harry here like this, just being here, interacting so easily with his family, smiling secrets at him, swamping him in his body-heat. Louis could get used to this.

Harry loosened his hold and smacked a quick kiss on Louis’ cheek and stroking his hair back from his forehead with his plastic-bagged hand. “I better take that shower before your Mum comes looking for you,” he said standing and gathering up his clothes, “and I like my eggs scrambled, soft but not too runny, ok, sweetums?”

He winked before he walked away so Louis whacked his pillow into Harry’s departing backside. That boy was much too insolent this morning. Then he lay back, giving himself just a minute longer to smile up at the ceiling because it probably wasn’t used to that facial expression from Louis and it was only fair.

 

“Here you go, Mum,” Louis wandered into the small back garden with a mug of tea in each hand. Even the sun was smiling on them this morning, but it was a bit chilly yet and Louis buried his nose into the hoodie he had loaned Harry yesterday, breathing in the faint traces of his scent that still lingered.

“Thank you, love,” she said, taking the tea and patting a space on the lounger beside her. 

Louis eased himself down and they watched the twins busy themselves with their self-appointed mission to dig a hole to China in the flower beds. 

“Is there a point when we should start to get concerned about their destructive impulses?” Louis asked calmly.

“Well,” Jo took a sip of tea, “probably that point would be if they ever get any worse than you were at their age. We had to eat off plastic plates until you were nine, remember?”

Louis snickered into his mug. “Sorry about that.”

“So … Harry seems like a lovely chap,” Jo said, still watching at the toddlers busying about. “When I woke up, I found him sitting on the floor of the kids’ room, reading them stories. He’s very sweet with them.”

Louis nodded, “He is sweet,” he agreed. “He’s … very sweet.” And, he continued silently in his mind, just on the right side of flirty. And deeply talented. And beautiful. And silly and bold and kinda dirty and deep and kind and silly and … oh God, Louis mentally slapped himself to shut himself up.

“And he makes you smile, so I like him for that.” Jo adjusted her position on the lounger before continuing, “And of course it’s always good when a man has a strong faith like his.”

“What?” Louis frowned at her, very confused.

“Oh, it’s just there seemed to be a lot of praying happening last night. At least, I assume that’s what was going on from the noises I heard.” Jo continued, a deliberately constructed expression of innocence on her face.

“Oh God,” Louis felt his face blushing furiously.

“Yes, that was it exactly,” Jo exclaimed, “ _Oh God. Oh my God, Louis._ Yes, a lot of praying went on indeed.”

“Mum, shut up!” Louis buried his face in his hands, “I’m sorry, OK? It won’t happen again, can we please never speak about this?”

“I would be very, VERY happy to never have to discuss this again, Louis.” Jo nodded in agreement. “It’s not that I’m not pleased you’ve found a nice boy, but there are just some things a mother doesn’t need to hear.”

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Louis muttered again.

“So, if he’s staying over again, its either separate rooms or tell him to bring earplugs for the rest of us.”

“Mum! Seriously!” Louis squeaked. “Please drop it? No more?”

“Jo!” a sharp male voice called out suddenly from inside the house.

Louis and Jo turned to face each other in confusion as the twins yelled “Daddy!” and galloped over to Dan, who was standing in the doorway, his face like thunder.

“Dan, what on earth are you doing here so early?” Jo asked, rising to her feet. “We agreed I’d have the whole day with them.”

“That was before I found out about the type of character your son is hanging around with.” Dan said, smacking a newspaper onto the ground between them.

Louis reached to pick it up, slowly taking in the headline, “Drugged Up Harry Trashes Studio, Goes on Run.” Jo looked over his shoulder and gasped.

“This is all complete rubbish, Dan,” Louis said as he scanned the rest of the article - a dramatic exaggeration of the incident yesterday. In this version, Harry was in a drug-fueled rage and smashed up a studio after an argument about him going to rehab. The paper actually printed a number at which readers could alert them with any sightings of the now missing popstar. 

“I was with Harry yesterday. It was nothing like this. Dan - come on, you know tabloids make stuff up!” Louis exclaimed.

“I’m not happy to have my children in this kind of company, Jo.” Dan said. “I’m not discussing it. They’re coming home with me straight away.”

As he turned to go back into the house they all stopped up short at the sight of Harry standing in the doorway, where he had been watching the conversation. He slowly edged out into the garden and glanced at the paper in Louis’ hand.

“It isn’t true,” he told Dan quietly, not quite looking at him, “but don’t change everyone’s plans. I can leave. I’ll just make a call.” He turned to say “Sorry, Jo,” and walked back into the house.

Louis whirled around to face Dan, furious, but stopped when his mother shook her head slowly at him.

Dan whipped the paper back from Louis’ hands. “No smoke without fire, is all I’m saying,” he sniffed, and wandered over to the twins who were back digging frantically with their plastic shovels.

Louis glared at his Mum. “This isn’t right. Harry hasn’t done anything to deserve this.”

“OK, but please don’t argue Louis?” she asked, sounding exhausted suddenly “I know it’s not fair but he’s only just beginning to trust me with the kids on my own. We can sort it all out another day, but not now, alright?”

Louis propped his hands on his hips for a moment, debating internally, but eventually shook his head, sighing angrily and turned on his heel to storm into the house.

 

He found Harry in the front hall, sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, finishing a phone call. He hung up his phone and reached to pull his boots onto his feet.

“They’ll be here for me in 15 minutes,” he told Louis, hoarsely.

Louis slumped down on the step beside him, watching Harry tuck his wallet into his back pocket and check the time on his phone, before flipping it over and over between his palms.

“Harry-” he began, then he stopped, not sure what it was he wanted to say.

“It’s alright.” Harry muttered, stopping fidgeting suddenly and sitting still, his hands on his knees, facing stiffly forward. Louis watched a muscle in his jaw twitching - it was the only part of Harry that hadn’t frozen.

“Do you think he minds being in a cage like that?” Harry asked suddenly, and it took Louis a moment to realise he was referring to Slinky.

“Oh, yeah, I dunno, maybe a little bit,” Louis said, after looking at the snake’s long form draped around the branches, “But it’s all set up with everything he needs. And anyway, it’s just temporary - Mum’s minding him for a friend of Dan’s who has gone traveling for 3 months. They thought it would make it fun for the kids when they come to visit. But Slinky’s got a huge terrarium back in his own house. He’ll be alright here for another little while.”

Harry glanced at the snake and then turned back to face the front door. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it,” he mumbled, and Louis felt anxiety radiating off him in waves.

“Don’t think about it,” Louis told him, reaching a hand to stroke across Harry’s shoulders. “No one’s going to put you in a cage, Harry.”

But Harry leapt to his feet, knocking Louis sideways, “Sorry, I just …” he gasped, he ran his fingers into his hair, “-bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Harry?” Louis called after him as he disappeared up the stairs. Then he sighed and slumped over his knees. “You’re OK aren’t you Slinky?” he asked quietly. The snake blinked back relaxedly, “Good,” Louis sighed again. “Tell me how you do it then.”

Louis kept checking the time as he waited for Harry on the bottom step of the stairs and, to his alarm, their 15 minutes together before the car arrived was passing by rapidly. He felt there was something really important he needed to tell Harry before he left, something they needed to discuss. He hoped he’d figure out what it was by the time Harry came back. He was on minute 11, when he heard a clamour of noise coming from the kitchen, and reluctantly rose to his feet to see what was going on.

Dan and his Mum were holding one of the twins each in their arms, and were rushing to close the back door and pull down the blinds over the windows.

“That friend of yours,” Dan hissed, “is not welcome here ever again, Louis, is that clear?”

“Why, what’s happened?! Mum?”

“There are a couple of men taking pictures over the garden wall,” Louis’ mother told him, her eyes wide in alarm. “Are they looking for Harry? Would they be those paparazzi people?”

“What?!” Louis cried, trying to move towards the window to take a look out.

Dan grabbed his arm, and stopped him. “Don’t Louis. Don’t give them anything to see. I think we should call the police. This is not acceptable. It’s a private home!”

Then the front doorbell rang, and they all froze, staring at each other.

Louis shook himself into action first. “I’ll be careful,” he reassured his mother and she reached for him.

He opened the door a crack and saw it was Stacey from work, huge sunglasses covering her face.

She smiled brightly at him, “Oh hello there! I’m Stacey. I’m here to pick up Harry Styles - I believe he is visiting?”

Louis opened the door wider to let her in. “Yeah, I know your name Stacey - we work together remember? Or at least, we did until yesterday?”

Stacey lowered the shades down her nose, peering at him, confusedly. “Oh right, yeah! The intern! What are you doing here? Listen, you couldn’t grab me a quick coffee could you? It’s been a crazy morning!”

Louis shook his head in disbelief, “Louis,” he muttered, “my name is Louis.” 

“Right, right,” Stacey said, distractedly, folding her sunglasses in her hand and looking disdainfully around the hallway. She jumped back a foot at the sight of Slinky, and curled her upper lip in disgust. But suddenly something seemed to dawn on her and she frowned, turning slowly back to stare at Louis.

“Wait… Louis…?” she narrowed her eyes. “Hang on, there was a Louis before … Wait, are you the one he…? Oh! Oh wow!” She giggled in a way that somehow made Louis want to slap her. “OK.” She nodded to herself, “well that explains yesterday’s disappearing act.”

“He didn’t disappear,” Louis huffed. “He can go where he wants in his own time, can’t he?”

Stacey’s face displayed a twisted smile. “So, the great romance is back on then, is it?”

Louis’ hand began to twitch. He never before in his life felt an urge to hit a woman and he wasn’t proud of his struggle to control himself with Stacey just then.

“Well, listen, Louis,” Stacey dropped her voice and leaned in to him, “just from one member of the Syco clan to another, I’d keep things pretty casual with Harry, if I were you. I traveled with him a lot last month and let’s just say, he didn’t give himself much chance to get lonely, you know what I’m saying? I mean - he’s a good looking guy - people throw themselves at him all the time. Who could blame him from taking advantage of that? Am I right?”

Stacey squeezed his arm. “Just some advice between friends? I know you’d do the same for me.” She laughed lightly, “I’m sure you’re fine. I mean, people are usually safe these days, aren’t they? But no harm to get tested, just in case.”

Louis felt physically sick and stepped back to grip onto the staircase banister to keep his hands back from choking her.

Before he could say anything, he heard Harry’s heavy footsteps heavily descending the stairs.

He kept his head down and merely muttered lifelessly, “OK Stacey, let’s just go then.”

“Harry?” Louis said softly to him, willing him to look up and meet his eyes but Harry just took the sunglasses Stacey offered him and turned towards the door.

Without thinking, Louis stepped towards him and grabbed him tight, pulling him fiercely into his body. He felt Harry place his hands lightly on his back, not exactly returning the embrace, more a gesture of acknowledgement, before dropping his hands again to move away. But Louis refused to release him and pulled him back in, pressing two kisses to his cheek, and whispering in his ear, “It’s going to be OK, Harry. We’ll figure it out, OK?”

He leaned back then and took Harry’s face between his hands, his heart thumped at Harry’s pale, blank visage.

“Harry,” he whispered, beginning to feel a tiny bit frightened, “please look at me.”

But Harry just shook his head, and kept his gaze fixed somewhere around Louis’ neck. “It isn’t true, what she just told you about me.”

He pulled Louis’ hands away from his neck, and paused. There was just a flicker of a glance at Louis’ face, and it was enough for Louis - he leaned in and kissed him on his lips, stroking his thumb along Harry’s soft cheek.

“Look at me.”

And this time Harry did. He met Louis’ eyes and blinked once at the ferocity of Louis’ gaze.

“I believe you.” Louis told him. “And, just, try to have some faith that everything will be OK, Harry?” 

And Harry released a small breath. “OK,” he gave a little nod, “OK Louis.”

Louis leaned in again and kissed his forehead. “We’ll talk this time. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and he managed a small smile. He hesitantly returned Louis’ kiss to his forehead then. “OK. We’ll figure it out.”

The both turned toward the front door where Stacey was standing, watching them with a furious expression. 

“Oh Stacey,” Louis smiled sweetly at her, “I’m glad you’re here actually. I’ve been meaning to apologise to you for days.”

She frowned confusedly.

“Yeah,” Louis continued, determinedly keeping a pleasant expression on his face, “I accidentally sneezed something horrible into your caramel frappuccino last week and never told you. But since you never noticed, I guess you don’t mind what goes in your mouth.”

She stared blankly for just three seconds and then flounced around and swung the front door open wide, leaving Harry to follow. The two photographers outside leapt into immediate attack, flashing and clicking their cameras right into Harry’s face as he walked after Stacey into the waiting car. Louis watched him get in and cast a quick glance back to where Louis was standing.

Louis smiled, and pressed the fingers of both hands to his mouth and theatrically flung his arms open to blow dozens of kisses to Harry behind the photographer’s backs. He then closed his fist over his heart to mime his pained despair, before wrapping everything up by twisting his fists against his cheeks to wipe away imaginary tears. He just managed to catch sigh of Harry’s expression dissolving into a grin before Stacey slammed the car door closed between them.

Louis waited to close his front door until the car finally pulled away, and once inside his slumped back against it, sliding down to sit on the welcome mat just inside the door.

Yeah. They’d figure something out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the light of certain recent interviews, I just want to say that I am throwing myself into making the last chapter of this fic the happiest, fluffiest OT5 friendship celebration ever! Things maybe have gotten a little sad, but they will all get better in the end! It's just what everyone deserves.
> 
> (And also - don't worry, the terrible Stacey will get her comeuppance!)


	27. Breaking: Down, Up, Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some truths are spoken. Along with some curse words.

_Three days later…_

Harry just kept smiling broadly across the room at Zayn, as beside him on the bed Niall swayed sideways back and forth with his arm tight around Harry’s shoulders, his eyes closed, singing loudly … “All I am saaaaaying … is give peace a chonce….” He took a huge breath in and Harry turned expectantly to him. Niall burst again into song - “All I am saaaaaying …”

Zayn’s skull would probably cave in if his frown went any deeper, but it seemed to be having absolutely zero effect on Niall, who continued his passionate rendition of the Lennon classic.

“Don’t you even know the next line?” Zayn growled eventually at him. “And I honestly don’t see how this is supposed to be helping him.”

Niall interrupted himself briefly, opening his eyes wide at Zayn who was leaning just inside the door of Harry’s modest, very beige, bedroom at the clinic. “Of course, its helping him Zayn. Singing is the best medicine, everyone knows that. We’re singing peace themed songs until Harry here feels tranquility return to the depths of his soul, just like he deserves, the little petal.”

He pinched his thumb into Harry’s chin before shutting his eyes again, kicking off into, “Kumbaya, my Lord, Kumbaya…”

Harry turned to see Zayn’s reaction. His expression of utter torture was probably the best thing he had ever seen in his life.

“Laughter, Niall,” Zayn said dully, over Harry’s chortling, “it’s laugher that’s the best medicine.”

“Oh, they do that here!” Harry exclaimed, slapping Niall’s knee. “We had a laughter yoga session yesterday. It was really fun.”

“Really?” Niall stopped singing abruptly to turn to him, wrinkling his nose, “sounds a bit corny.”

“Says the kid who just sang Kumbaya,” Zayn muttered.

 

For the first couple of days of Harry’s stay at the Priory, he had avoided thinking about the implications of his current circumstances through a successfully employed tactic of filling every moment possible with activity. So, there had been some mingling with a few of the other inpatients over the fruit salad bowl at breakfast, an unavoidable session with a psychologist, three strolls in the garden, an art therapy session, a couple of rounds with the punch bag in the gym, and one hour of laughter yoga. Then at his second therapy session, the nice psychologist (who didn’t have a hint of a moustache, to Harry’s immeasurable disappointment) brought his fingertips together under his chin and suggested that since Harry continued to insist that he was absolutely fine, that perhaps the Clinic had nothing to offer him and he should end his stay? And perhaps Harry should sit still with his feelings for a while, and reflect on that, and see what came up?

So Harry went off to his room, closed the door and fully intended to take the advice until he discovered that his main feeling was exhaustion and he promptly slept for 16 hours straight. He would probably still be sleeping were it not for the tentative knock on the door to announce Niall and Zayn’s visit. Despite his grogginess, Harry could have jumped up and down in delight at the sight of their faces. 

Well, he maybe did actually jump up and down in delight at the sight of his friends, with Niall grabbing his hands to join in. Zayn’s expression at the time conveyed the sentiment he now expressed verbally. “You two are the biggest idiots.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, violently tugging Niall into his chest, “but at least we’re each others’ idiots.”

Niall pulled back to shoot a knowing expression at Harry, “Um, isn’t Louis your idiot now?” he asked.

Harry shrugged, unable to keep a small smile from dimpling his face, “Yeah. Maybe? I think Louis might be my idiot. I’d like him to be my idiot.”

“So why wouldn’t you let him come visit with us?” Zayn asked, “I think he was a bit disappointed.”

Harry let go of Niall and sat up straight on the bed, worry apparent on his face. He had thought Louis fully understood his explanation when they spoke briefly on the phone the first night of his stay.

“There were paps at Louis’ Mum’s house,” he explained, “I don’t know if they’re still watching him or what, but if he’s spotted turning up here, then it’ll just mix him up in all this. We agreed he should lie low for a while.”

“But you two are definitely on now, right?” Niall asked, his eyes twinkling.

Harry was about to nod but he hesitated. Niall’s little innocent face somehow forcing Harry into full disclosure, “I think so. He said he wanted us to be friends and that we’d figure everything out.”

“Friends?” Niall grimaced and muttered, “fucksake Louis!”

But then Harry gave up fighting back a smirk and added, “Well there has been some kissing and stuff too”. Then he turned back to Niall, leaning in conspiratorially, “And guess what?” 

“What?” Niall asked, an expectant grin on his face.

“I decided, no matter what … I’m gonna be the one for him. I’m gonna be the one who takes care of Louis.” Harry whispered to him.

Niall looked a little confused, but nodded encouragingly.

“You take care of Louis?” Zayn asked, moving across the room and sitting in the chair beside Harry’s bed, slinging his feet onto the mattress. He picked up some papers from Harry’s bedside table and flicked through them. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”

Harry’s expression quickly sobered and stared silently at the floor. Niall leaned back to glare pointedly at Zayn behind Harry.

Zayn suddenly blanched, realising what he had said and moved to sit on the other side of Harry on the bed.

“Shit! I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Zayn bit his lip. “I just meant that Louis’ like … Louis. You know? He’s just pretty much fearless. If you want someone to fight your corner, he’s your guy, you know? And you’re like … I mean, you’re kinda … not like that. You’re a nice guy.”

Harry widened his eyes to glare even harder at the floor. If there was a way of banning anyone from ever mentioning the word “nice” as a descriptive of him again, he’d really like to take that option. 

“Well, I think Louis’ the nice one actually.” He told Zayn. “And, who says I need someone to fight my corner for me anyway?”

Zayn flipped over the piece of paper in his hand - the outcome of Harry’s art session was a collage made from tabloid headlines about him, spelling out the letters S.O.S. Harry ripped it from Zayn’s hands, muttering, “That was supposed to be private.”

Zayn leaned his head to the side, examining the picture closely, “Is the reason you didn’t want anyone to see it because it’s … well, artistically speaking …” He wrinkled his nose, “… kinda crap?”

“Zayn!” Niall exclaimed, as Harry pushed Zayn off the bed.

“Hey!” Zayn grinned and held up his hands in surrender as both boys’ feet made roundhouse kicks in the air in his direction, “I just meant - don’t give up the day job, you know? No one’s good at everything.” He flopped back down into the bedside chair and picked up a pen, doodling idly on the pillowcase.

“Yeah, well. I might have to do that actually.” Harry said, returning to sit cross legged on his bed.

Niall frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Harry sighed. “Give up the day job.” He cast a quick glance at Niall. “I can’t do it any more. I can’t deal with it. There’s too much shit in this industry so … I called some lawyers. They said even if I can get out of my contract, the usual settlement terms mean I can’t sign with anyone else so yeah, it’s pretty much over for me and music.”

He looked at Zayn then. “I’m really sorry Zayn. I know if I pull the plug on my album then no one will get to see your artwork. I’ll try to make it up to you though, somehow. I promise.”

Zayn’s face remained blank as he watched Harry closely. 

“That’s what you want? Really?” Niall asked after a very long, unblinking, pause.

Harry nodded, folding his arms up against his chest. “Yeah. I mean. I have to. You see the press. Poor Zayn even ended up in the papers. There’s no way I can get into a relationship when - like, how could I ask Louis to deal with this shit? Either I get out or everyone around me suffers by association. It’s my only option.”

Zayn flung the pen he was holding with surprising violence across the room. Niall and Harry jumped in shock and watched Zayn leap to his feet to stride the floor.  
“Fuck that shit.”

“Huh?” Niall asked, his eyes following the pacing Zayn.

“Fuck that. And I don’t care in the slightest about the cover art Harry. It’s that … you’re giving up on music? Fuck that! Fuck anyone who tells you you can’t do what you want, Harry. That is such bullshit.” Zayn was flinging random items at the wall then - a cushion, a satsuma from the fruit bowl, a hair tie.

Harry looked helplessly at Niall who was gazing wide-eyed at Zayn like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to applaud him or run away, very fast.

“Fuck anyone who tells you you can’t have everything you want Harry. Fuck them! You fight for what you want. We got your back, man. We got you.”

Niall nodded then, and turned back to Harry, gripping the back of his neck and rocking him slightly for emphasis, “Anyone who knows you _knows_ you, Harry. You don’t have to worry about the rest of us. We’ll stick around, no matter what the fuckers in the media say about you. Or about us. You know that don’t you? I’m certain that goes for Louis too.”

Harry looked into Niall’s blue eyes, opened so wide and brimming with truth, and then at Zayn’s amber eyes, gleaming with passion. Harry rubbed fiercely at his suddenly running nose. Oh, so now his feelings decided to turn up? Yay.

“Guys.” He hesitated, “I’ve been trying so hard to keep in the game, really, and all that’s happening is that I’m falling apart. I know what you’re saying Zayn but I honestly don’t think I’m strong enough for that fight.”

Zayn walked back towards him and laid his hands on Harry’s shoulders, peering deeply into his eyes, “So get strong. Do that first. Then do the rest. Isn’t that what this place is for, anyway?”

Harry frowned. He could do that? But yeah … he could, couldn’t he? He blinked blankly for a while before noticing Niall and Zayn still staring at him, smiling. He laughed gruffly, “They should hire you guys to work here.”

Zayn smirked. “Yeah. They really should. Cos as well as my pep talks, I can also dispense inner peace and shit.” He pulled a neatly wrapped joint from the top pocket of his shirt, holding it out to Harry. “How about you keep this on standby for next time you need to chill.”

“Zayn!” Niall gasped, horrified. “You know they treat drug additions here? You can’t smuggle in weed, for fuck’s sake!”

Zayn frowned, “But isn’t that all over in the other wing or whatever?”

Harry covered his eyes with his hands, “I didn’t see it. That didn’t just happen,” as Niall jumped up and tackled Zayn.

Later, after they left, Harry phoned his moustache-less psychologist and arranged a time to talk - properly - with him the next morning, although his heart immediately raced at the thought of it. But just at that moment, in the corner of his eye he noticed the doodles Zayn had drawn earlier and picked up his pillow to examine them. 

They featured a little caped cartoon Harry, arms outstretched in flight, his hair trailing behind him. The words circling the image were. _HS. Secret identity: nice guy. Super-power: LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE Dream sweet dreams and make them true. xx Zayn :D_

Harry grinned and hugged the pillow to his tummy. Love, he decided. Love was his weapon. Love would make him strong.

 

…..

 

Louis was trying to be a good friend. He had called to Niall’s flat to get a report on the visit to Harry but had instead found only Liam there, who, it seemed, had been sampling Niall’s poitín supply. Louis’ surprise at Liam’s dissolute appearance quickly changed to understanding when Liam turned to him and said, with a broken smile and shining eyes, “He’s never going to love me back, is he?” 

Louis knew he had to step up to the mark. He gulped back a shot before he could think better of it. Two hours later, he and Liam were bonding deeply.

“It’s not fair.” Liam told him, “I always tried to be a good guy, Louis. I try my best, like, all the fucking time.”

“You do, you do, Liam.” Louis could only agree vehemently. It was inarguable. Liam was the goodest guy that ever was good in the whole world of good people.

“I mean, I did everything they asked at work. I even did that paleo stuff with Harry, to like, be supportive - and he CHEATED Louis! He ate ICE-CREAM! But I never did, never, never, never … And look!” Liam pulled up his shirt, swaying, and displayed his bare chest and stomach to Louis, “Look at these abs, Louis! Tell me I don’t try my best.”

Louis glanced over and then did a double-take, “Wow! Liam?! That’s your body? Holy moley!” He gaped at Liam’s tightly sculpted muscles. “You have truly excellent abs, sir. I bow down to your abom … abdomin-iniminals.”

Louis tried to clip his heels together and sweep down into a low bow in front of Liam but the floor, very treacherously, at that moment decided to sweep forward and Louis ended up tumbling onto his knees instead. Oh, but that would work, and Louis stayed on his knees, put his arms up straight and bowed up and down to the floor in that position instead.

“Thank you, Louis,” Liam sniffed, looking down at his ripped stomach and patting it sadly. “But, still. What good are fuck-off abs when you ruined your friend’s life and made a balls of everything at work and can’t get the most wonderful person you’ve ever met to love you back?”

Louis felt sympathetic tears gathering in his eyes. It was hard to see how great abs might assist in that scenario, he could only agree. But he really, really wanted to make that sad expression on Liam’s face disappear. He needed to think of something to help. He was famously an ideas man after all … 

“Oh! I know! You know what we should do?” He scrambled onto his feet and staggered across the room for Liam’s phone, “We need to take photos of these abs for Zayn! We can send him snaps, and then he’ll see your hotness and realise he needs to fall in love back with you. ‘Cos you’re so, like, so sexy and irresistible.”

Liam frowned as though trying to remember why that might not be a good idea. His brain clearly failed to come up with anything though, as he suddenly nodded, and shuffled towards Louis, “OK! Yeah! Sounds like a good plan. You’re smart Lou! That’s why I like you the best!”

When Niall and Zayn arrived back from visiting Harry, they found the photoshoot still ongoing, Louis balancing on top of a chair with Liam writhing topless on the floor beneath him, trying his best to follow Louis’ instructions to “Give me a vibe more like … sex-kitten meets manly woodcutter.”

“What the hell, now?” Niall asked, dropping his keys into a bowl on the table, and picking up the nearby bottle, sloshing it to gauge how much damage the two guys had done to themselves.

“Niall!” Louis cried delightedly, leaping from the chair to embrace Niall, “Did you see Liam’s abs? They’re fucking amazing! Zayn, my boy! We’re gonna send snaps to you! So you’ll fall in lo-ummph!” Liam’s hand was suddenly pressing hard over his mouth.

“Sit!” Niall commanded them, pointing towards the sofa and slumped there himself, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Louis threw an arm around his shoulder because Niall was also one of the goodest people in the world of good people and needed to know that.

“Is Harry OK?” Liam asked, trying to put his shirt back on and getting his head stuck until Zayn came to tug it down. Louis cursed all the gods that ever were then, because that should have happened in reverse. Zayn might be the stupidest person the world of stupid people.

Niall started talking about Harry though, so that pulled Louis’ attention away from Liam’s problems.

“Yeah, well, a little bit better. He wanted to give up music forever though.” Niall opened his eyes and saw Louis’ expression, “Zayn tried to talk him out of it.”

Niall rubbed his nose and sniffed. “I hope he’s going to be OK.” He elbowed Louis in the ribs then, “You have to help him be OK, Louis. I mean it.”

Louis nodded blankly, crossing his arms over the whirling that started up inside his stomach. He became aware of Liam sitting up straight on the sofa, watching Niall’s distress.

“Lads, I have to tell you something …” Liam began, and Louis saw tears brimming in his eyes again. “The stuff with Harry, the way he’s been feeling… it’s my fault. I was part of pressuring him into everything that happened and … that was so wrong. I’ve been feeling so horrible. I made Harry feel like he can’t trust anyone. I know it’s no use saying it now but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You did what?” Louis gaped at him. 

“I talked Harry into finishing things with you that time before and going along with all these horrible marketing plans.” Liam moaned, smashing his forehead into the coffee table. 

“No way, Liam”, Niall was gasping as Louis blinked not understanding, “What the hell? You stomped on their love? Why?”

“Who’s love?” Louis protested, his face flushing. “What are you talking about?”

“It was because,” Liam continued, an agonised expression on his face, his voice dropping to a whisper “if Harry was straight, well … straighter… I thought that might be better for you, Zayn. I knew your family were upset with you after the threesome scandal, and for some stupid reason I thought it might help ... I’m sorry. I fucked up so badly.”

Liam drooped when Zayn turned to him, his face crinkled with confusion. Liam sighed, and started speaking again, mumbling into his crossed arms.

“I thought that, all the time I wanted to be with you Zayn, and we were getting closer, that maybe it was your concern for your family that was holding you back, you know? That you weren’t fully out as pan or whatever because you were afraid they might reject you or something over it?”

“Wait,” Zayn spoke, finally, coming to sit on the floor on the opposite side of the table, “what are you talking about Liam?”

“I, um, I …” Liam faltered, “I wanted you to feel like you could be with me, like, properly be with me. I guess, and I know now how stupid this was, but I thought if you didn’t have to worry about what your family thought, then maybe it might happen. For real.”

Zayn’s frown deepened and he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he spoke.

“Hang on. I don’t … I’m, like, confused Liam. My family know who I am. They’ve totally got my back. I know that.”

“Oh,” Liam smiled shakily at him, “I’m glad Zayn. That’s good.”

Zayn’s eye bored into Liam’s face. “What do you mean … be with me for real? You know we’ve got this flirty thing going on, Liam.” His voice softened, “You know I’m up for some fun anytime you want?”

Liam stared at the table.

Niall reached to pour another round of shots for everyone and Louis gulped his back immediately. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or shout at Liam just now, but just sitting here while he made his confession was excoriating.

Zayn blinked a few times before he spoke again, “What, Liam? Tell me. It isn’t complicated, we like each other, right? I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’d risk hurting Harry … I don’t understand …”

Liam looked up into Zayn’s eyes. “Zayn,” he told him, “the thing is, I love you. I’m totally in love with you. It isn’t a fun flirtation thing with me. It’s love. It’s … from-the-depths-of-my-soul, sacrifice-everything-for-your-happiness kind of love. I love you so much. I just … I love you.”

Zayn gaped at Liam open mouthed.

Liam’s eyes finally spilled over and Louis felt his own heart break watching those two tears venture bravely down Liam’s cheeks.

Zayn seemed to come to his senses first. He sat back on his heels for a minute and then grabbed Liam’s hand and stood, pulling Liam with him to their feet. “Come here, Liam,” he said softly, tugging him behind him as he walked away from the table, “let’s talk.”

 

“Fucking hell,” Louis said, eventually, after he and Niall watched the door to Niall’s bedroom quietly close behind Liam and Zayn. “That was …”

“I know…” Niall breathed.

Louis turned to him, “Niall, that was totally -”

“-beautiful.” Niall said.

“-horrific.” Louis said at exactly the same time.

“What?” they whirled to look at each other.

Louis shook his head violently, “No, no, no… I’m talking about what Liam just did? It was just so-”

“-brave,” said Niall.

“-stupid,” said Louis at the same time.

“Huh?” they said together, followed by a joint, “Are you serious?!”

“Niall,” Louis said, patting his knee kindly, “I don’t know what you just thought you saw, but there’s a 99% chance Liam’s getting his heart smashed to pieces in there. There’s nothing beautiful about that, you knobhead!”

“Louis,” Niall said, in a tone of exaggerated patience, “Liam’s heart isn’t going to get smashed to pieces. It’s just going to crack a little. And that’s ok. ‘Cause things have to break apart a little bit to make room for new growth. Liam’s heart’s just going to end up bigger and stronger that’s all.”

Louis frowned at him in utter confusion. “No Niall. When you lose someone? It destroys you. It hurts so much you can’t get up in the morning. It fucks you up forever. I’m telling you. Liam shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have protected himself. ”

They stared at each other stunned.

“Louis.”

“Niall.”

“Louis, don’t. With Harry. Don’t be that way with Harry. I mean it.”

Louis’ eyes widened as Niall leaned in to him and clasped his hand. “He’s my friend and he’s the best person I know. He-”

“Of the two of us, he’s been the one who keeps leaving, so far.” Louis whispered. “So don’t give me the speech because it isn’t Harry’s heart you need to worry about. I, I’ll be there for him, whenever he needs me. Don’t worry. I’ll be there for him, OK?”

And before he could go any further into articulating the confusion inside of him, the door to Niall’s bedroom opened and he and Niall shot upright immediately beside each other on the sofa. Niall shoved his phone to Louis’ face, babbling “Oh yeah and here’s one of me on the ninth hole, where I scored a birdie.” 

He needn’t have bothered to pretend that Louis and he were occupied however, as neither Zayn and Liam paid them any attention. They walked slowly to the front door of the flat where, before he left, Zayn pulled Liam into a hug. “You take care, kid,” he murmured into his ear. “We’ll talk again soon, yeah?”

Liam nodded and rested his head briefly on Zayn’s shoulder before letting go and meandering over to sit on the floor, crosslegged, his back resting against the sofa. 

“You OK, Liamo?” Niall asked him gently.

“Yeah,” Liam sighed, swirling a finger through the rings of moisture left on the table. “We talked. We sorted it. He said that he didn’t feel the same way about me, that he’d always love me as a friend but that was all. He said maybe we should give each other some space for a while, because he wanted to give me a chance to move on.”

Niall and Louis stared quietly at Liam, neither quite sure what to say.

“Shit Li,” Louis murmured, reaching down to squeeze his shoulder, “I’m sorry, bro.”

“It’s OK,” Liam said, forcing a smile onto his face. “I mean, I already knew really. I just wanted to tell him. I don’t know why. I just needed him to know.”

Louis slid onto the floor to sit beside Liam, leaning his head onto his shoulder. To his alarm, Liam’s face suddenly crumpled and he put his head in his hands, a sob wracking through his body. Louis stroked his back, feeling a familiar coldness take hold inside.

"It's OK," Liam snuffled again, "I'm going to fix it. I'll fix everything I ruined. That's what I have to do now."

Louis met Niall’s eyes, and they both sighed sadly at each other. Whether or not it was cracking open to grow, or falling into pieces, they’d do their best to piece Liam’s broken heart back together. They wordlessly agreed on that much.


	28. Verbal Expressions of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam and Harry have been making plans.

Louis was feeling grumpy again. He was trying to shake it off though because he meeting up with Liam for lunch - but he had just had the worst job interview in history despite his very best _confident-yet-not-arrogant_ smiling and _looking-directly-in-the-eyes-while-gripping-firmly_ handshakes. However, it appeared that having an uncompleted, reference-less internship was worse than not having one at all.

He should have known it wouldn’t go well. He’d received a text from Harry that morning to say he was finally coming back to London, after a couple of weeks at home with his Mum to “get his head together” as he had put it. But now, he was coming back and had asked if Louis maybe, only if he wasn’t too busy, like to meet up sometime soon? So, as Louis suspected, having a good interview after that was just too much good fortune to expect from one little day.

Louis was still brooding over his reference-less situation when he arrived into the cafe to meet Liam for lunch a little later. 

“Liam, my son, it’s been too long! Where’d you disappear to this summer?” Louis said into Liam’s shoulder – having been roughly pulled into a hug. He knew Liam had quit Syco just after him, but had then gone AWOL for a while. Louis feared he had taken off to Thailand in pursuit of Zayn on his backpacking trip, but judging by Liam’s lack of tan, it now seemed unlikely.

“I’ve been working on something.” Liam told him, pouring Louis a glass of sparkling water from the Evian bottle on the table. “I was doing some market research and putting together a business plan for a new idea I have. I want to tell you about it, but first, what about you? How’s everything going?”

Louis shrugged, sipping the water. “OK, I guess. I got some work at the kid’s centre actually. It’s lucky because its the first time they’ve had the money to pay someone to do holiday cover - thanks to some anonymous donation. And Stan calls me in some weekends when he’s short-staffed at The Dive. So, I’m making the rent at the least.”

“So, no luck with a proper job yet?” Liam asked.

Louis just leveled a piercing look at him. “Sorry Dad. I’m going to have to be patient. No one gets their dream job straight out of college, do they?”

“Except for Sophia…” Liam said, a distant look in his eye.

“Oh, you guys have been talking?” Louis asked, surprised. Sophia had won the job application lottery and landed an amazing job writing for an online fashion magazine.

Liam nodded, hiding behind a menu, “She’s loving it. She so deserves it, doesn’t she? I sometimes wish I …” He sighed and cast shy glance at Louis. “Did you ever get the feeling that something great was under your nose for ages, but by the time you realised, it was gone?”

The waitress arrived then to take their order, so Louis was spared having to come up with an immediate answer to that.

The bright café was busy and noisy, so when Liam eventually got around to telling Louis his business idea, he thought he had misheard him at first.

“The thing is,” Liam said, taking a brief pause and then nodding to himself, “I think we should go into partnership and set up a new artist management company. You’d do the representation and marketing and I’ll do the business management and operations. Between us we have the combination of skills to make some noise in this industry. I’ve seen how people trust you - and you’re a natural salesman. I’ve got the contacts with producers and media reps from my years with Syco – it’s a winner. Here’s the five year plan – read through it.”

Liam pushed a folder at him as Louis gulped at the air like a goldfish.

“Don’t even say anything now,” Liam reassured him. “Just have a read, think it through. Take your time. Well, don’t take that much time. Next week would be great.”

“Liam,” Louis hardly knew where to start, but he picked the most obvious point, “I don’t have any money to put into a new company. If we’re signing unknowns there’ll be a long time-lag before any money comes in. How can we market product without initial funding?”

“Ah, you see, these questions are just because you haven’t looked at the plan.” Liam smiled, “Once you do that, you’ll see that there is seed funding already committed. We’ve got enough to get us up and running for the first 18 months. We’ll need to be generating income by that stage though. But since I’m pretty sure we have our first client that won’t be a problem.”

Louis stopped his flicking through the folder at Liam’s last comment. “Who’s the first client?” he asked.

Liam tapped the side of his nose, “I’m afraid I can only divulge that information once I have a verbal expression of interest from you.” He grinned delightedly and Louis felt goosebumps rise along his limbs.

“You don’t mean Harry? Is it Harry?” Louis gasped.

Liam just continued grinning at him. “Don’t be silly. Harry’s still under contract with Syco, isn’t he? Take the folder home Louis, have a think. Give me a call.”

Louis nodded, thinking poor Liam. This thing with Zayn was clearly still affecting him. Louis wondered if he could dissuade him from his crazy new company idea into more typical broken-heart-recovery activities, like new haircuts or marathon training or competitive selfies. 

He gave Liam a big hug before they parted, promising to read through the business plan, while quietly thinking that if they had only sent Zayn those snaps of Liam’s abs in time, this whole thing could have been avoided.

 

………….

 

Harry sat on the ground, tipped his head back and felt the amber rays of the evening sun warm on his face. He smiled into the sensation, crossing his legs into the lotus position, straightening his spine like he had been taught, and listening to the breeze whispering gently through the surrounding bamboo plants. He thought about it collecting the oxygen the green leaves released, carrying it into his lungs, and, how it delivered his exhalation back to the leaves. Everything in this perfect life-giving exchange. His body in harmony with the world. All as it should be.

“What the fuckery fuck?! I thought you were going to call me?” The voice was close by and just a bit too loud. Ah, harmony and balance could be such fleeting things. Harry was learning to accept that too.

He opened his eyes, blinking up at the two figures silhouetted against the sunset. Harry smirked, straightening out his long legs and leaning back on his arms to look up.

“Well,” Harry said, tilting his head toward the bags beside him. “I thought I’d surprise you with an evening picnic.”

Louis gaped for a moment, eventually saying. “How did you get in here?”

“Ellie let me in? She gave me a key before and said it was OK as long as it was after the kids had gone home.” He blinked again at Louis who was still frozen. He hoped his little surprise hadn’t broken him.

“Well, Susie’s Mum got a bit delayed,” Louis eventually said, “We decided to have a walk until she gets here.”

“Hello Susie! I remember you! Why are you still hanging out with this weirdo?” Harry grinned at her as she kicked her feet against the base of her wheelchair chair excitedly. Harry smiled up again at Louis. “That’s OK. I can wait.”

“What on earth are you wearing Harold?” Louis asked then, taking in Harry’s baggy purple jumper, full of holes and fraying, over his ripped black skinny jeans, a clashing green beanie on his head, and scuffed desert boots on his feet.

“Oh,” he looked down at himself, “was going for comfort more than style today, I guess. It’s my new thing. Focusing on what’s important.”

Louis nodded slowly, “Well, we’ve been talking about putting a scarecrow in the veg patch, so if you aren’t busy….?”

Harry curled over his knees laughing.

Louis hesitated but eventually nodded. “Right then. Evening picnic... Come on Susie, let’s get you sorted. Wait!” He suddenly turned back to Harry, eyebrows disappearing under his floppy fringe, “Why did Ellie give you a key? When were you talking to her? That … that anonymous donation … that wasn’t you, was it?”

Harry kept his face expressionless, “What anonymous donation would that be?”

Louis narrowed his eyes suspiciously but turned around to walk away. Then he said over his shoulder, “It’s good to see you. You look … good. It’s good to see you looking so good. Despite the clothes.”  
Harry laughed again, his heart expanding in his chest, “You too Louis.” He waved, “See ya Susie.”

Louis grinned stupidly until he caught Susie’s expression and stumbled, pushing her back to the Centre’s main building. “What?!” Harry overheard him grumbling, “He does. I know you were thinking it too. Shut up Susie.”

 

Harry meandered through the garden, looking at all the changes that had come about since the last time he was here. The planting had bloomed, everything lush and in a riot of colour and scent. He felt his heart swell again to think that his Louis had created this while still a broke and overburdened student, just relying on the force of his will and the loyalty he inspired in his friends. He felt so proud of him. And he felt that determination lock down inside him again - to make sure Louis was OK, to be there for him, no matter what.

As the sun set, Harry wandered to the Rag Tree at the bottom of the garden and inspected the remaining silken strands of the scarf he had tied there months ago. 

Eventually, he heard soft footsteps making their way over the grass, and a light hand ran along Harry’s shoulder.

“Hello sweetheart.” And oh shit, he called him sweetheart? That was cute. Harry just beamed back at Louis, and couldn’t stop himself from pressing a quick, soft kiss to his cheek and then bundling him into a tight hug.

“Louis! God! Hi!”

He felt Louis squirm slightly inside his arms and twist his face into Harry’s neck, his breath hot against his ear. And Harry cast a quick bargaining glance up to the just-appeared evening star through the branches of the Rag Tree to silently plead - see this? See how perfectly we fit together? Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be?

They pulled apart and smiled at each other to an extent that might have been embarrassing if anyone else was around to witness.

“It’s really good to see you.” Louis said, his eyes locked on Harry’s.

“God, you too! Wow!” Harry bit back his smile a little, and tucked his hands behind his back, but, almost in argument with itself, his whole body leaned forward towards Louis. Their eyes drank each other in, as though trying to read an account of the lost time of the last few weeks from each other’s skin.

“Well, I brought these … for this picnic thing.” Louis held up the blankets he had folded over his arm. “Everyone’s gone now, so I’m off duty... And hungry, actually, as it happens.”

“Cool! Let’s eat!” Harry went to get the bag of goodies as Louis spread the blankets on the grass. 

“No sushi this time, I hope?” Louis grinned, as Harry rummaged through the bags, producing some sandwiches he had got from a deli and opened them two bottles of beer with the opener on his key ring.

“Your lack of appreciation of sushi is a sad disappointment to me, Louis,” Harry said, shaking his head regretfully. They stretched on the blankets, and chatted easily, to Harry’s relief. They’d been texting all the time over the last few weeks, chats and crap jokes and slagging and the occasional few, sweetly devastating, words of something more real, but Harry was relieved at how natural this felt now. 

They talked until dusk wrapped around them and they moved to sit side by side, leaning against each other, a shared blanket over their shoulders as the day’s warmth faded.

“Show me your hand.” Louis asked after a while.

Harry blushed slightly but held it up in front of them. The bandage and stitches were gone, leaving an array of crimson scars. “All better,” he said, “the marks will fade soon.”

“No more of that now.” Louis placed his hand over Harry’s and gently stroked his thumb over Harry’s knuckles. “No more arguments with inanimate objects.”

“No,” Harry agreed, “except for with Simon. Still having a few arguments with him unfortunately - and he definitely counts as an inanimate object. We had a meeting this afternoon … with all the lawyers. He’s really determined to bury my album AND all the demos AND make sure I can’t release anything new outside of the Syco label. It’s … ugh.” Harry folded his arms up to his stomach and shook his head.

Louis sighed. “That man is all that’s standing between us and our dreams, Harry.”

“So do we know anyone who could introduce us to a hitman?” Harry narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“Why does Niall seem the type?” Louis mused.

“He does seem to know absolutely everyone.”

They giggled, and Harry eventually said, “Nah, it’s won’t be necessary. I’m working on an idea. If it comes off, we’ll all be sorted.”

Louis seemed to be trying to read something in his face, “That’s funny,” he said, “Liam has had an idea too.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, aiming for innocence in his tone.

“Do you two have the same idea?” Louis asked.

“Dunno.” Harry sucked on his beer, smacking his lips, “I must ask him.”

“But,” Louis asked, “you two are OK again? You and Liam?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled warmly, “We’re all good.”

Louis put his beer down, and asked seriously, “And, you’ve been doing better? You’ve been sleeping and all that?” 

Harry smiled at Louis’ concerned expression, and nodded. “Yep, sleeping and eating and breathing and all that regular human existing stuff. I - ” He hesitated and flashed a glance at Louis before continuing, “I’ve been talking to a therapist. Apparently I’ve been internalising my anger.”

Louis snorted, “From my experience, Harry, externalising your anger doesn’t necessarily work out any better.”

“No shit!” Harry giggled, holding up his scarred hand. “Well, he said I also have a tendency towards an external locus of identity, so I’m working on that - its all about self-acceptance instead of needing crowds of strangers to applaud me.”

“Your shrink says you’re a locust?” Louis said. “Fire his crazy ass, Harry.”

“No, Lou-” Harry caught the twinkle in Louis’ eye then and laughed along.

“Fuck that, though,” Louis said, then, “you’re perfect. You just had the misfortune to work with a bunch of sociopaths.”

Louis slumped down onto the ground and tugged Harry closer to settle in against his shoulder, both of them looking upwards at the dark sky. He stroked Harry’s hair back from his forehead and kissed the side of his face, whispering, “I’m glad you’re doing OK. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

And Harry was about to tell him how much he’d been thinking about him too, when a sparkle above them caught his attention. 

“Look Louis!” he pointed, excited, “A shooting star. Make a wish.”

They watched brief streak of starlight disappear into the black and then Harry heard Louis mutter quietly, “I don’t make wishes. I don’t believe that’s how it all works.”

Harry raised himself on one arm to peer back at his face. “That’s no good Louis.” He decided to press an encouraging kiss to Louis’ lips. “The Rag Tree is right there! What if it hears you?”

They both turned to look at the dark fluttering shape of the adorned tree.

“Which one is yours?” Harry asked, nodding at the drifting scraps of material.

“I never wished on that tree. I mean, it’s a cute story, but if half those rag wishes came true then this Centre wouldn’t be so busy.”

“Louis.” Harry sat up properly now to turn and face Louis, shaking his head slowly. “Come on now… make a wish. Or else how’s it going to come true?”

Louis looked up into the dark endlessness above. “OK then…I wish,” he said slowly, “that you never stop believing in wishing on shooting stars.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s a stupid one, Louis. I never would.” 

But, Harry had to admit, that was also quite endearing and deserving of some kisses so he continued to mouth lightly against Louis’ skin, his lips prickling slightly as he moved them slowly over the stubble on Louis’ jaw, his neck. He felt Louis bury his fingers into his hair and scratch gently at his scalp, drawing out a quiet moan from Harry against his neck. Harry felt Louis’ hands move into his curls again and Harry whimpered, nuzzling in just under Louis’ chin.

“Oh, this is an interesting discovery,” Louis chuckled softly, “you really have a thing about this, then?” Louis smiled softly against Harry’s forehead, running his fingers through Harry’s hair again and he suddenly tugged quite firmly. Harry couldn’t stop another, louder moan issuing, or his legs from moving to wrap around Louis’, pulling his body in close to his crotch while Louis ran both hands again into Harry’s curls, fingernails burying into his scalp, scratching lightly at the nape of Harry’s neck right where his hairline ended.

Goosebumps rose all over Harry’s body. “Shit. Louis. Umph.” Harry heard his own voice had become roughened and breathy.

Louis grasped another handful of his dark hair and squeezed it tight between his fingers and Harry bucked into him, grunting. Louis dug again into his curls and Harry’s hips responded involuntarily, “Fuck, I’ve found your sex kryptonite,” Louis laughed softly.

“Ummm.” Harry rolled on top of Louis, pressing their lips together, his body weighing down along the full length of Louis’. He nudged Louis’ mouth open with his lips, touching their tongues, “So what’s yours?” Harry murmured, and he felt Louis’ dick pressing against his thigh.

Instead of answering he rolled Harry over so he was on his back beneath Louis.

“Look up at the stars,” Louis whispered to him.

When Harry opened his eyes it was Louis he gazed at. “Look up, babe.” Louis said again, and Harry reluctantly looked towards the heavens, exposing the softness underneath his jaw to Louis’ mouth.

“That’s where you belong, you know?” Louis mumbled against his skin, “You are made to be a star, singing your songs. That’s what you should be wishing for. Don’t ever give up on that. From the first moment that I saw you, I knew that’s where you should be and that one day, I’d be telling people - hey, see that guy? I knew him once.”

Harry smiled at first, running his palm along the back of Louis’ neck, enjoying the flickering sensation of Louis’ tongue on his skin, but then he considered what Louis had just said, and pushed him back a little, to look at his face.

“But…” he saw Louis’ gentle smile, and his stomach twisted when he realised Louis didn’t even think that his words had sent a dagger flying into Harry’s heart. “But Louis. You’ll be there, right? I mean, you won’t be saying you once knew me - you’ll be with me, right? We’ll be together? I thought that we’re going to be together now, yeah?”

Louis’ focus had returned to Harry’s neck, his teeth and tongue kneading on a spot just over Harry’s collar bone. “I’ll be gazing up in wonder, sweetheart,” he mumbled.

“Louis.” Harry sat up, accidentally knocking Louis off his body to splay flat beside him on the grass. “But. What about us? That’s what you want too, yeah? To be with me?”

Louis sat up onto his knees. “Harry,” he started, straightening out the blanket that had tangled around them. He kissed the side of Harry’s mouth, running a hand up along his arm. “Of course. You’re so lovely.” He pushed gently at Harry’s shoulders, trying to guide him to lay flat down on the blanket again. Harry pushed him back upright.

“But. Like, where are we on this?” Harry insisted. Part of him was screaming internally to shut the hell up before he ruined everything, but he’d been working so hard lately, to cut to the core of things, to be truthful. “I mean, I want to be with you - to try to make this work. Do you want that?” Louis’ irises looked black in the darkness, shining like coal.

Louis swallowed. “Yeah. Sure. It’s just. It would be great, but …”

“But?” Harry asked, very quietly.

“Isn’t it better to just see how it goes, instead of making some big statement now about how we’re always going to be together? It just seems like, we should concentrate on today and lets see what happens? I don’t think we need to make some big, pointless, promise to each other. No one really knows what’s going to happen. You mightn’t always feel the way you do now.” Louis had taken Harry’s hand and was staring at it as he spoke, entwining their fingers. “I really do care about you though Harry, I do,” he said then, shakily. 

“I care a lot about you too,” Harry whispered back immediately. And he looked at Louis’ frown as he kept staring at their joined hands and something in his expression let Harry know he shouldn’t push it. Because Harry knew what it felt like to be scared you were going to lose something precious.

“OK.” Harry said.

Louis looked up questioningly. 

“We can just see how it goes.” Harry told him.

Louis nodded and bit his lip, the frown still creasing his forehead. “Am I being an asshole? I just-”

“Louis,” Harry told him, leaning back onto the blanket and pulling Louis down on top of him. “It’s OK. It’s just us.”

Louis looked up and pressed his thumbs against Harry’s lips and kissed over them, then over his face, his eyelids. He ran his hands back up over Harry’s cheekbones, fingers into his hair again. “OK,” he said, echoing Harry, “thanks”.

And while his attention drifted lower down Harry’s body, Harry let his eyes rest on the flailing strands of his old scarf drifting in the twisted branches. So, not just yet, then. Some wishes took a while to be granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, the evil Syco-gang get SERVED - stay tuned!
> 
> P.s. Dibs on "Locusts of Identity" for an noughties emo cover band name. Who's in?
> 
> P.p.s Please note - Harry's scarf on the rag tree is in tatters, like BARELY hanging on ... :)


	29. The Honey Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn's looks are finally put to good use.

Having richer friends was an adjustment Louis was grudgingly being forced into accepting. Everyone else seemed to be soaring into their post-uni, real-actual-grown-up lives right then - Stan was taking over the lease on the Dive with his cousin, Zayn was actually SELLING his crazy art pieces, Niall got a management job at a Wentworth Golf Club, Nick was producing a late night radio show and Sophia was getting a big following on her fashion blog. 

It was lucky Louis never experienced jealousy, what with his kind and magnanimous nature. Despite clearly having always been the cleverest one in the group, he did not resent his friends leaving in him the dust in this race to make successful careers for themselves. Nope. Not one little bit.

Louis pounded the streets, dropping applications into various shops and bars downtown in the hope someone could offer him a few shifts to compliment the irregular hours he was getting at his other jobs. He needed more money. Because not only were his friends all pulling in regular income, he also had a rich-ass popstar boyfriend to whom he’d had to make excuses five times in a row now instead of going out with him. So, if three simultaneous part-time jobs was what it was going to take so he could afford to buy his man a drink back, then that’s what he was going to do. 

Except - no. He got that wrong. Harry was not exactly his boyfriend, was he? Thank you stupid, subconscious impulses for putting a stop to that development.

Louis’ stomach twisted when he thought back on that talk in the garden, at the memory of Harry’s eyes sweeping down to look at their joined hands, the furrow of confusion between his eyebrows.

He wanted it, of course. Wanted to be able to say to Harry that yes, he was in this with him for the long haul, that he couldn’t imagine ever being happy without Harry in his life somehow. But some invisible hand had crept over his mouth and gagged him from saying it - because it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that there was no way Harry would be sticking around. Not for Louis. Yes, he might want him now, when he was at a low ebb after all the stress of paps and scandals. But once he returned to his senses, he’d go, up and leave, get back to some starry, glittering world filled with talented, beautiful angels, just like him.

So Louis was just going to have to try to enjoy things for while they lasted, that was all. And although nights in with pizza and netflicks and fumbling around on the sofa together were definitely enjoyable, his boy-whatever deserved a night out every now and then. 

Louis was about to cross the road to drop an application into a newish bar he hadn’t yet visited, when he was brought to an abrupt stop at the sight of Syco logos emblazened on display panels on either side of the doorway. Some vague memory of a mid-year results party suddenly returned to him and he swallowed down the quiver of nausea he felt just looking at the logo. He was about to turn away when he noticed three people rushing along the street to quickly disappear inside.

Louis frowned and wondered if he should book an eye exam, because he could have sworn that it was Liam, Zayn and Sophia who had just scuttled in through the venue entrance. 

Obviously, this warranted further investigation. If any friend Harry’s was going behind his back to fraternise with those arsewipes in Syco, Louis was sure as hell going to make sure they were sorry for it.

 

Even though it was early evening, the inside of the bar was dark and crowded. It also featured a style of interior that might be described as wrecked industrial meets ostrich nest so it took Louis a while to adjust his eyes to scan the crowd.

He had just spied Simon in the centre of the room, shirt split to his navel, pompously addressing a small circle of acolytes, when he felt hard fingers grasping at his elbow and tugging him aside. Liam’s anxious face appeared at his shoulder, and he pushed Louis back into a dark recess.

“Louis!” Liam was hissing, “what are you doing here? You’re going to fuck everything up!”

“What?” Louis gasped, righting himself and rubbing at his elbow. He then saw Zayn and Sophia also huddling in the shadows, looking equally stressed at Louis’ appearance. “What are you all doing here? What’s going on?”

“We don’t have time to explain,” Liam said, and Louis thought he probably better ask him to return his boxset of 24. “Just stay back here, out of everyone’s way, Louis. We’ve got something going on and we really need you to keep out of it. Please?”

Louis narrowed his eyes and looked into all of their faces suspiciously. Sophia narrowed hers right back at him. Zayn’s eye’s were already narrowed, surveying the room like an assassin. Liam’s had actually widened in an expression of manufactured innocence.

“I want to know what you guys are up to.” Louis told them.

“No. No, you actually don’t.” Liam answered, before turning to the other two to point at a cluster of Syco employees who were gathered near the bar. Despite this supposedly being a party, they were all clinging to their phones and devices as though they were buoyancy aids on a sinking raft. “All right,” Liam said to Zayn, pointing, “See that blond one? That’s her - that’s Stacey. And Sophia - remember - you’ll be looking for a folder called _End Game_.”

“Do you really think we’re going to pull this off?” Sophia asked, suddenly looking worried.

Liam set his shoulders in a gesture of resolute determination that Louis hadn’t seen before. “Absolutely, Sophia,” he said, “We have to. We’re doing this for Harry. Success is our only option.” 

Zayn looked on with a smirk that seemed half-impressed and half-amused.

“Quickly Zayn, go over!” Liam ushered. “She always ends up pissed at these things - you have a small window of opportunity to win her trust. You know what to do, now go!”

Louis couldn’t help noticing that Zayn was looking particularly smoldering tonight. He was all in black and had combed his hair back into a loose quiff, from which one devastating strand fell forward over his eyes. 

“OK! OK!” Zayn checked his reflection in a nearby broken, tarnished mirror that was dangling on frayed rope in a supposedly artful manner. He set his shoulders and sauntered to the bar, a large number of eyes in the room following his feline progress. Zayn spoke to the barman and stood there for a few minutes, appearing to wait for a drink, looking about casually, when his gaze, oh so accidentally, fell on Stacey standing nearby.

She had been casting not-so-subtle looks of longing at him, but seemed shocked when he met her eyes and stared steadily back at her. She choked half-way through swallowing a gulp of vodka and soda, spluttering it messily down her front.

“Ugh,” Liam said, “Zayn has his work cut out for him.”

“But what is he doing?” Louis hissed at Liam, as they watched Zayn smirk gently at Stacey, moving over to her to offer her a paper napkin.

“Its working!” Liam gasped, as Stacey blushed furiously, taking the napkin and blabbering embarrassedly at Zayn, who continued to smile at her and then gestured towards the bar. Two minutes later she had disengaged herself from her group and was knocking back drinks with him, while Zayn leaned proprietarily towards her, nodding and laughing. At one point he gently reached forward to touch her arm, and Stacy spluttered her drink again, splattering Zayn’s black shirt.

“Jeez! She’s not very good with the old gag control, is she?” Sophia had reappeared at Louis’ side. “Not exactly making a great pitch for later.”

“Sophia!” Louis turned to his usually oh-so-proper friend, appalled. 

“That bitch deserves everything that’s coming to her.” Liam muttered darkly.

“Whut? Liam!” Louis swiveled around to him. He wasn’t exactly sure if he had severely misjudged his friend’s characters up to now, or if they had just changed into vicious bitches overnight. Either way, he found himself laughing into his sleeve - he kinda liked this new mean girls vibe they had adopted.

 

The evening rolled on, and Zayn was stuck to Stacey’s side for the whole time, trotting frequently to the bar to get them more drinks, and hanging on her every word like she was the most fascinating person he had ever met. At one point Stacey laid a sleepy head on Zayn’s shoulder, and he made bug-eyed expressions of exasperation over her head at Liam.

“Right.” Liam said, “I think its time.”

“OK,” Sophia perked up beside them, “wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck, Sophia,” Liam said sternly, “I know you can do this. You excel at everything you do. You are the most capable, intelligent, talented and beautiful woman I know. I would trust you with my life.”

Sophia stopped up short and swung around to stare at Liam, stunned. She blinked twice, before saying, “Oh. OK. Thanks, thank you.” She tried to walk away, her gaze lingering behind her at Liam for a couple of steps, before regaining her equilibrium. She crossed the room to where Zayn was now leading Stacy to a low sofa, fruitlessly trying to steer her into her own seat while she kept angling to sit on his knees.

Louis turned with a raised eyebrow to Liam, noting his eyes seemed to be pretty well riveted on Sophia’s bum in her tight jeans as she walked away.

“Um, Liam?” Louis tentatively began, “are you like, interested in … Do you want …”

Liam silenced him with a sharp look. “Let’s keep focused on the task at hand, OK Louis?”

Louis sighed impatiently, this was getting beyond irritating, “What is this task, Liam?”

“Sssssh!” Liam said, “Just watch.” He grasped Louis hand so tightly it hurt, but Louis refrained from complaining because losing a hand due to lack of circulation would just about be in keeping with the overall weirdness of the evening. Liam tugged him along the edges of the room, still keeping in the shadows, so they could watch the progress of whatever mysterious plan was underway.

 

Sophia looked as though she was strolling casually through the room, but stopped in front of Zayn and Stacy and acted as though she had only just noticed them.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, “I think I’ve just found the new it couple. What are you two like?! You are just gorgeous together! My boss would kill me if I walk past you without getting a profile. London Stylista wants you guys on our screens. Who are you wearing, darling?”

Stacy beamed back at her immediately, running her fingers through her dishevelled hair, and laughed excitedly.

“London Stylista?!” she asked, beaming, “How cool! Oh, I recognise you from your profile picture! Sophia, right? I love your blog. It’s the first thing I log onto every day! You guys are my bible when for wardrobe inspiration.”

“Really?” Sophia gasped, clutching her hands to her chest, “that’s amazing! To think someone as stylish as you looks to us for ideas! Wow!”

Stacey tossed her hair over her shoulder, failing to notice Zayn flinching as she hit him in the eye with the gesture.

“You have to let me take your picture for the blog,” Sophia gushed, taking out her phone. “People are going to go crazy over you two.”

“Yeah, babe,” Zayn echoed into Stacey’s ear, “people are going to go crazy over us.”

Louis could almost see Stacey’s brain cells exploding through her eyeballs at having Zayn’s moist lips pressed so close to her ear.

“Well, wow, OK then,” she said, slumping off Zayn’s lap drunkenly, before righting herself with a clearly painful tug on Zayn’s neck. She flicked her hair back over her shoulder, and pouted in Sophia’s direction.

“Oh no….” Sophia then said, sadly.

“What? What oh no?” gasped Stacey

“My battery just died,” Sophia sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it. My boss is going to kill me when he finds out I missed out on this opportunity to highlight London’s sexiest couple.”

“Fuck,” Stacey pouted tragically. She actually looked like she might cry.

“Oh but, couldn’t we just use…?” Zayn pointed at Stacey’s ipad, poking out of the top of her handbag on the table in front of them.

“Oh yeah!” Stacey enthused, “here, use this!”

She thrust the ipad at Sophia, who’s eyes were gleaming in a way Louis knew meant trouble.

Sophia took lots of photos of Zayn and Stacy, encouraging Stacey to drape herself over Zayn in various poses. Liam and Louis giggled in the corner at Zayn’s increasing wrath as the charade went on. Louis had a sneaking suspicion that Sophia was taking a degree of pleasure in Zayn’s obvious discomfort.

“So, can we email these to me now? I could get them on our site by the morning…” Sophia tentatively suggested after a while, and Stacey grabbed the ipad back to open her email program.

“Oh sure,” Stacey was excitedly agreeing, “of course you can.”

“Babe,” Zayn suddenly was on his feet, pulling at Stacey’s hands, “Let her do it. Come dance with me, baby. Gotta feel you move with me. Right now. C’mon.”

Stacey was on her feet instantly, then was on her bum as she toppled over, but Zayn hauled her up again and tried to guide her away to a space where people were dancing. 

“So I’ll just send off these photos Stacey,” Sophia smiled, nodding at the ipad Stacey had abandoned.

Stacey waved her hands dismissively at her and swirled around, wriggling her bum at Zayn, and moving in to grind clumsily against him. Behind her, he raised his eyes to the ceiling, clearly praying for salvation. He looked beggingly at Sophia, who just shook her head as she tapped frantically on the ipad screen.

As they looked on, Liam was digging his fingers Louis’ elbow again. “Come on Sophia, you can do it, gorgeous,” he whispered. 

“What’s she looking for?” Louis asked, mesmerized by the tension radiating from each of his three friends just then.

Zayn swayed helplessly as Stacey writhed around his body, eventually ending up draped behind him, her hands clamped onto his chest, her face between his shoulder blades. He swung around, eyebrows raised questioningly but Liam shook his head and Zayn sighed, pressing his hands on top of Stacey’s to keep her in place.

“Oh, fuck, finally…” Louis watched Sophia breath in relief, “I found it. Thank you Jesus, Allah, Krishna and all you weird incestuous Greek deities.”

She made a final few taps before doing a deliberate, single nod at Zayn and closing the cover over Stacey’s ipad. “Mission accomplished,” she mouthed to Liam, a smile smile of delight darting at her lips.

Zayn’s face practically melted in relief and he wriggled free of Stacey immediately.

“Right,” he said brightly, “Sorry Stacey, but I gotta take a leak. You keep dancing, babe.” And he galloped towards the door as her hands pitifully grabbed at the empty air behind him.

Liam swept in then, tugging on Louis’ elbow and taking Sophia’s hand. “Quick, let’s get out of here before she clocks he’s not coming back.”

 

Outside, Louis found himself being bundled into a tiny battered car. “Matilda!” he exclaimed on finally recognising it, seeing Niall hunched over the steering wheel.

Zayn slumped into front seat last of all, tossing his cigarette out the window while he shuddered, muttering, “I need a shower.”

“Did you get it?” Niall was asking, anxiety traced in deep furrows in his brow.

“Oh yeah,” Sophia giggled deviously, “Oh, I got it all right. And I emailed the full set of files to everyone in Stacey’s media contacts list straight from her own account - there’s no way of tracing any of it back to us or Harry. I totally made it look like she accidentally attached the files along with those photos of her and Zayn.”

Sophia was snorting into her hand, “You guys the cover email I wrote said, “Hey babes, look at sexy-ass me with my new fuck toy. Eat my shorts, you jealous bitches.” And I selected the ugliest photos I took. Just for yucks.”

“I’m not fully comfortable with that Sophia,” Zayn frowned, as Niall guffawed beside him, “I do not remember agreeing to being called a fuck toy?”

“Chill out Zayn, I cropped out your face! And that’s not what everyone’s going to care about anyway.”

“OK! That’s it!! Enough!” Louis shouted, unable to take it anymore, “I have NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT IS GOING ON! Tell me what you are doing, NOW!”

Everyone in the car swiveled judgemental eyes towards him, and Louis really felt like smacking someone right then.

“Seriously, Lou. Calm down.” Niall said into the rearview mirror. “If you want to know, just ask, like.”

Louis gaped at them, his curiosity over-ruling his anger and, with immense effort, he gathered himself enough to ask, “OK then. What were you lot up to tonight?”

“Tonight Louis,” Sophia told him, “we have gathered the evidence we need to bring down the evil empire.”

“It was all there?” Liam asked, leaning across Louis to ask Sophia.

“Oh yeah.” She answered. “It was actually scary stuff.”

“We were stealing.” Zayn told Louis, looking over his shoulder, as Niall put his foot to the floor, clearly taking his getaway driving responsibilities to their limit, “we stole some stuff from Stacey’s files. And we leaked it.”

“What stuff?” Louis asked

“I guess it just started as a risk management thing - Syco drew up a list of all our artists’ pressure points,” Liam explained. “Like, everyone has things they would prefer the public not to know - drugs, bar fights, affairs and that kind of thing. So the PR team in Syco wrote out plans in case those kinds of issues hit the press - to manipulate the coverage so that it actually worked to our advantage. I guess some of the team went over to the Dark Side when they realised that the scandal plans were actually going to be more effective that standard PR. Stacey took it even one step further again. She started making up stories and working the media for maximum effect.”

“Like your threesome?” Louis asked, “That was her?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Liam said, “And she threatened Harry with a shitstorm of other lies unless he complied with everything they wanted.”

“Oh,” Louis said quietly.

“Stacey had a file called End Game that outlined the whole strategy - because she had to draw that up for Simon to approve - and it contained a load of fake negative stories written up and ready to go.”

“The worst part of it all is that it works brilliantly,” Liam continued. “And everyone is too terrified to take Syco on because anyone who does will be the next target for some reputation-ruining lie. Even poor Hattie in the office came back from her holiday to everyone thinking she had gone away to have plastic surgery to repair a cocaine nose - just because she disagreed with Stacey at a meeting once.”

“Sheesh!” Louis stared at the window blankly. “So how come I didn’t know about any of this?” he asked Liam, “When I was at Syco there wasn’t a whisper about this kind of stuff going on?”

“I only found out after the threesome thing,” Liam answered. “It’s pretty much top level stuff. And I kinda made sure you wouldn’t get to that level while you were there.”

Louis whirled around to face Liam - “You!” he shouted, pointing a finger into his face, “You mean, it was YOUR fault I had to do all those coffee runs?”

Everyone in the car started laughing. 

“Well, let’s focus on the most important thing here, Louis,” Niall said.

“Is this really going to stop Syco though?” Zayn asked, biting on his thumb thoughtfully.

“Oh God, yes. Syco is going down.” Sophia said, “No one will ever want to sign with them again. No producer will want to be associated with them. No one will ever print a press release they issue.  
They’re done.”

“And!” Liam turned to Louis, “This eventually might help their existing artists leverage out of contracts!” He waggled his eyebrows significantly at him. “Artists who will need good representation and management? Artists who will prefer to work with people they know and trust?!! Yes, do you see what I’m saying?!”

“Yes Liam.” Louis nodded. Liam couldn’t make it any clearer what he was saying if he physically chiseled it into Louis’ face.

“Wow.” Louis breathed eventually. He looked away from Liam to take in the grinning faces around him in the car, afraid to offer congratulations in case it encouraged this downright devious behaviour any further. He never thought the day would come when he turned out to be the straightest one in the group. So to speak.

“Oh, shit, just one thing. Harry didn’t want you to know anything,” Liam told him then. “So, please pretend you weren’t there tonight.”

“How come?”

Liam shrugged. “Oh, he just wants to fix this mess himself. So he can move on. For you. But you know all that, I guess.”

Louis saw his own reflection confusedly frowning back at him in the window then.

 

“OK Zayn, this is you.” Niall pulled up at his houses shortly after that, “you want to hang with us for a while or …?”

“No, I just want to go take a bath in bleach or something,” Zayn said, getting out of the car, “Being pimped out makes you feel all soiled and sordid … who knew?”

Liam elbowed Louis in the face as he hurriedly crawled out of the car after Zayn, “Seriously though, thanks mate. I’m really sorry for putting you in that position.”

Zayn looked back at him, his head tilted to one side. “You know Liam, it was … interesting … seeing this new side to you this evening. You were very commanding. A little bit evil, even.”

Liam’s looked down, blushing deeply. “Eh, yeah. I suppose I was, kinda.”

“I think I liked having you boss me around a bit.” Zayn’s voice dropped to a sultry, low pitch, “It was quite hot, to be honest.”

Liam’s head snapped up. He stared at Zayn with widened eyes.

Louis caught Niall’s surprised expression in the mirror while Sophia stared rigidly at the car seat in front of her.

Then they waited through a tense silence that seemed to stretch out endlessly before Liam huffed out a short laugh, and he shook his head slowly. He reached up his arms and pulled Zayn into a hug, slapping his back. “OK, well, I think it was a once-off Zayn. Hopefully that’s the only appearance evil me will ever have to make.”

Zayn smiled into Liam’s shoulder. “OK.” He sighed gently. “I guess that’s for the best. Non-evil you is the best version, anyway.” He cupped Liam’s jaw and looked meaningfully into his eyes. “Love you, ok, Leeyum?”

Liam nodded, smiling less certainly, before taking a breath and nodding again with a new expression of resolution, “I know. I … me too, mate.”

They hugged again,warmly, saying goodbye and then Zayn walked into his house and Liam sank back into the front seat beside Niall.

After a few minutes of quiet driving, Liam turned to look behind him at Sophia, an anxious expression on his face, like a child expecting a scolding. His expression melted into surprise, however, when he saw her smiling softly at him. 

And when he smiled back they both looked shyly away for just one beat before seeking each other’s gaze again.

Louis saw Niall’s eyes twinkling in the mirror, and he turned to look out the window to hide his own celebratory smile. 

So, second chances were an actual thing then.

Good to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have made it this far with me - THANK YOU! You are clearly a person of great taste and virtue, and you radiate elegance and beauty and goodness will surround you forever! I just KNOW it!
> 
> I will admit I have THE FEAR about finishing the last chapter. If you have any wishes for it, anything you'd like to see happen, speak now in the comments and you never know ... your wish could be granted! :-)


	30. Catch a Falling Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh - this chapter is nearly 5K words, sorry! Brace yourself!
> 
> I struggled so much to finish this - particularly in choosing the songs the guys will sing. So if you're wondering about the odd choice for Harry's song - in the end I decided to just switch on the radio and go with whatever song came on first. Hence, the Waterboys! Oddly, I think it might just work sorta perfectly! Thanks universe!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this final instalment.

Harry was waiting for Louis just outside the entrance way of Happy Hearts Centre, quietly hiding his amusement at the trio of schoolgirls across the road who were failing badly to hide their attempts to sneak photos of him. He let them believe their _“let’s make it look like we’re taking a selfie”_ strategy was working for a while, before raising his hand in a cheery wave over at them.

“And here you are yet again, Harry Styles! Don’t you have anything better to do?” a warm voice called from the doorway behind him. The girls across the road skipped away, red-faced and giggling.

Harry swung around to Louis, dipping down to kiss him lightly on the forehead and bop their noses together. He then had to jump back to avoid Louis’ swatting hands. Louis really hated it when Harry treated him like he was teeney and cute. Even though he was. Cute and sharp - like a terrier. Louis was definitely Harry’s little sexy terrier boy - particularly with that shaggy fringe thing he had going on today.

“How much longer are you going to be?” Harry asked, catching Louis’ hands and wrapping them around his waist, slinking his own arms around Louis’ back. “I’ve got a serious craving for Pad Thai. You’re not working tonight, right? Keep me company?”

What Harry was actually craving was treating Louis to a nice dinner somewhere elegant and discreet, watching his eyes catch the gleam of candle-light, his smile soften over a glass of wine, and then taking him home and laying him on his back for some slow, sweet, sweet lovin’. But he’d learned to make his date ideas sound as though Louis would be doing him a favour or else they’d end up with yet another Dominos on the sofa, with Stan in the corner groaning complaints every time they attempted any PDA.

Not that he blamed Stan. They were disgusting. Harry knew it. He bought Stan a set of Beats to make up for it.

“None of the other boys free?” Louis frowned, and Harry swallowed back down the swell of disappointment at Louis’ determination to keep up the pretense of them being in some kind of _friends-with-benefits_ scenario. 

The thing was - he was completely in. He was doing this, like he had promised to himself. He was taking care of Louis any way he could figure out. He’d done all he could to support Liam’s start-up so Louis had a chance at job he loved. He’d got clearance from Ellie to help out at Happy Heart - watching Louis grin at the back of the room as Harry led the tumultuous group singing sessions. He popped over with take-out on the evenings he knew Louis would be too tired to make himself a proper dinner. He borrowed Matilda a few times to drive Louis home at 3 am from his late shifts at the Dive (although the intention to ensure Louis got a good night’s sleep was somewhat stymied when they ending up rolling around together in his bed, stroking and sucking until the sheets were in a disgraceful state.) He’d even set aside his absolute terror of Louis’ twin sisters and attended their ballet recital with Louis and his mum, smiling blandly while they instructed their friends to ignore Harry’s stupid hair and clothes because no one should be judged on their looks.

But still, some part of Louis was coiled tight inside an invisible egg-shell that Harry just couldn’t crack. 

“I haven’t asked anyone else yet,” Harry said, keeping his expression as neutral as he could manage. “I suppose I can phone around. If you’re busy or something.”

He saw the shadow pass over Louis’ face then. “No, no, I’m not busy,” Louis reassured him off-handedly. “I guess I can go with you. If you’re stuck.”

Harry smiled down at him and kissed him gently. “Cool. You’re my favourite anyway.”

And he saw the edges of Louis’ lips turn into a smile he was clearly fighting to submerge.

“Right well, I just have to mop the kitchen floor and then I’m done. Wait in the lobby? I’ll be 10 minutes max.” Louis squeezed his fingers really briefly into the front of Harry’s hipbones and rushed back inside, which, um, did things to him. Damn that boy’s talented hands.

 

Harry hobbled into the lobby and hunched onto a chair, trying to will his body back to being a bit more socially acceptable. His distraction kept him from noticing the sleek car pulling up outside, and the tall, dark-haired figure emerging and quietly entering the lobby.

“Well, this is nice,” Simon looked around him at the bright murals on the walls, his hands in his pockets, “all very worthy. So - working on rehabilitating your reputation then Harry? Clever idea.”

Harry gaped at him. Simon swung back and forth on his heels. “Probably best to give it another week or two before getting papped here though. You want a bit more distance from the drugs stuff.”

“Rightio Harold - ready whenever you are. Oh.” Louis came blustering back into the lobby and froze at the sight of Simon. Harry found himself on his feet and moving to stand next to Louis. 

“Ah, the very man I wanted to talk to,” Simon grinned toothily.

“You can’t be here, Simon,” Louis warned, “they don’t let just any weirdo wander in here from the street.”

“Oh but I have some business I want to discuss.” He paused, looking at the back of his hand and then flicking away something invisible from the cuff of his jacket. Harry wondered if there was some evil villain school of deportment you had to attend to pick up these intimidating gestures. “I want to know how much you’re looking for.”

Louis took a step in front of Harry and Harry was proud of himself for resisting the urge to wrap his arms around him and pull him back to his chest - part shield/part comfort blanket. 

“What are you talking about?” Louis spat.

“You know we’re on the brink of folding the company Harry, do you? All those people out of work, thanks your little stunt. Happy about that, are you?”

Harry gulped, feeling like he had been drenched in cold water. He’d never wanted anyone to lose their jobs. Louis reached behind him and took his hand. Harry clung to it tightly, keeping their grip in place behind Louis’ back, where Simon couldn’t see.

“And Louis, aren’t you quite the clever boy?” Simon continued, “Playing on Harry’s affections until he rejected the people who made his name. Someone with your smarts clearly sees dollar signs when you look at the kid. I have to at least acknowledge some level of professional respect. So lay it out, boys. How much do we have to pay you to get Harry back with Syco?”

“Simon, I don’t represent Harry and I’m not involved in that start-up with Liam. But if I was, I’d tell you to piss off because after what you guys put him through, there is absolutely no way he is ever going to work with Syco again. Right?” Louis cast a glance back at Harry, who tried his best to give him a reassuring smile.

“Oh come on, stop wasting my time,” Simon moaned, “lay it out. What are you looking for? How about I offer you guys an up-front bulk sum? Should help you a lot with that Management Company start up. We could even go as far as offering, let’s say, five of your signings a year’s recording contract. And Harry - your album is ready to go - are you really willing to start from scratch all over again? C’mon, let me help you both out.”

“No Simon.” Harry felt steadier now he could feel Louis’ warm hand gripping his. “Just … no. Forget it. I’m not interested. My answer is no.” And wow. He couldn’t wait to tell his therapist about this! He didn’t even apologise or try to explain or anything! Yay! And … oh shit, this was scary. However, now that he was on a roll …

“I don’t care about your side of the business anymore Simon. I just want to live my life with people I care about and who care about me. That’s what matters - not performing or tie-in deals or that crap. Music will be part of my life whatever you try to do. Like, even if I can’t record, then I can write, I can teach, I can, I dunno … be a music therapist.”

Simon’s coal eyes glittered as they appraised him. “Oh, aren’t you just the little idealist all of a sudden? What happened to “I’ll do anything, Simon?” Don’t pretend you hadn’t given your consent to everything we did for you. And don’t come crying once your little schoolboy crush has faded and your back to being a nobody trying to rekindle a career on second-rate reality TV shows. There are very few second chances in this game Harry.

“And as for you!” Simon turned to Louis, “Enjoy your little work experience project with Liam while it lasts. I’ll give you six months before Harry gets bored. He might have his uses for you now (and now Simon looked pointedly at Louis’ crotch) - for a number of reasons - but if you think he’ll stick around teaching music and watching you achieve your inevitable destiny as a deputy manager at Tesco? Dream big, boys.”

“Simon,” Louis inhaled deeply, before continuing, “Go fuck yourself.” 

And Harry had to acknowledge that it may not have been Louis’ wittiest ever comment, but it’s brevity had its own eloquence.

 

“He was just trying to get into our heads.” Harry told Louis after Simon had swept out of the room. He wished his voice didn’t sound as shaky as it did.

“Yeah,” agreed Louis, nodding at the swinging front door they were both staring at. “That was just him being a sore loser.”

“Exactly.” Harry quickly smiled at Louis. He noticed they were still holding hands in a white knuckled grip. Louis saw him looking down and muttered “Sorry,” and wriggled his hand free.

“Don’t worry, you won’t end up a deputy manager at Tesco,” Harry nudged into Louis’ shoulder, forcing himself to grin, hoping Louis would start smiling back at him soon.

“Why not?” Louis asked sharply, taking a step away from Harry to glare at him, “What’s wrong with working at Tesco? Lots of people do. It doesn’t make them inferior.”

“No, no, of course not.” Harry hurriedly answered.

“Why say that then, Harry?” Louis ignored Harry and continued his rant, “Is your heart bleeding for all us poor minimum wage idiots? Don’t waste your pity. There’s a lot of us, you know. We’re the ones who buy your records after all.”

“Louis!” Harry’s voice rang loudly in the empty lobby, “Stop it. Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

“Well, why did you say that bullshit about teaching music?”

“It wasn’t bullshit. I mean it.”

Louis stuck his hands on his hips, a skeptical expression on his face that was making Harry feel very small. Louis continued, “You know he had a point - what he said about you.”

“Who? Simon?” Harry gaped in horror back at Louis.

“Well, yeah - why aren’t you bored yet? Hanging around here with me? What are you waiting for? I mean - Liam said your lawyers are working on a deal to get you out of contract. You can release your own music soon. So, what are you doing here? What are your plans?”

To be with you. But Harry couldn’t say that to him, could he? Louis was being a bit scarey right then.

“Well?”

Fuck it. 

“You.” Harry said. “I want to be with you. That’s my plan. That’s enough for me.”

Wow. Two breakthroughs in one afternoon. His therapist was going to throw him a parade.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry.”

And Harry caught his breath because he’d sorta been hoping for more of a _swooning-into-his-arms response_. Louis looked angrier than ever now. Harry wished he had another Louis to hold his hand again because it was getting lonely in that lobby staring down those blue eyes.

“Don’t say shit like that Harry.”

“But I mean it.”

“No, fuck that. You don’t. You’re just … I dunno … finding an excuse to hide away because you had a horrible time before. But you’re going to have to get back to your music soon. Simon knows the industry - it won’t wait around for you.”

“I mean it though.” Harry said again, “I don’t need to release records. I don’t want to do it if it means not being with you.” 

Louis stared blankly - incredulously? - at him for so long that Harry could take it no longer. He looked away and asked quietly, “Louis, is it because of me getting so stressed out before? Is that why you don’t want to be in a relationship with me? Because I’m ok now. I don’t think it’ll happen again because I learned all these coping-”

“No! Jesus, no, it’s not that. Fuck, Harry - how could you even think that?”

Louis rushed in to him, holding his upper arms in a hard grip, all his anger suddenly gone and looking concerned to the point of panic instead.

“I know you’ve had so much on your plate and I promise not to add to it. I swear, I’m better now.” Harry told him, and Louis’ face crumpled a little before he dragged Harry’s head down onto his shoulder and squeezed him tight.

“God, I would never … “ Louis breathed into his ear, “you can’t think that, please Harry. Stop thinking I don’t want you. Of course I want you. You’re perfect. I’d be lucky to have you.” Harry felt Louis’ face twist into his neck and place fervent kisses there.

“So why won’t you then? Why won’t you have me? I’ve been trying to make you see how much you mean to me, Louis. Make you see how it could be if we were together? How we could be there for each other? Help each other out? Make each other happy? We could make each other happy, Louis.” Harry felt Louis go still inside his arms. He felt him breathing heavily, damp rushes of heat pulsing into his neck.

“Louis?” he asked again. 

“What if I can’t Harry?” Louis sniffled a little, pulling away from Harry. He looked away to a corner of the room.

“Can’t what?” Harry asked gently, placing his fingers on Louis’ chin to turn him back to face him. “Make me happy? Of course you make me happy, Lou.”

“No,” Louis’ voice was barely audible, “what if _I_ can’t be happy, Harry? I think that maybe I just can’t. And I don’t want to do that to you. I mean, my Mum- and … I don’t trust when things seem ok and- … I think, I can’t be happy. I don’t know how.”

“But Louis. Do you want to be happy?”

Louis nodded into the corner, twisting away again from Harry’s gaze.

“And you want me?”

Louis sniffled and nodded.

“And,” Harry found himself whispering, “you trust me?”

Louis nodded again sadly and Harry was suddenly filled with the most joyous feeling of certainty he’d ever experienced in his life. He just knew then. He knew.

He wrapped his arms strongly around Louis and dipped him backwards so he was hovering limply in Harry’s arms. Louis gripped in shock at Harry’s shoulders and looked in alarm directly at his face for the first time in a while. “Wha’?”

Harry beamed at him, his hands supporting Louis behind his neck and his waist, and leaned down to press the most passionate, heated kiss of his life onto Louis’ mouth. As he slid his lips over Louis’ he felt his boy melt slightly, and Harry’s hand worked its way onto the back of Louis’ head and he pulled him slowly back upright, setting him back onto his feet.

“Louis,” he breathed then, pressing their foreheads together, as Louis looked dazedly at Harry, “Happiness doesn’t just happen to you. You have to decide to be happy. We can do this, babe. We can be happy. I know it. I know it.”

Louis blinked.

“You’re really stupid Louis.” Harry told him, his face aching with the width of his smile. “You’re lucky you have me to explain everything to you.”

“What’s happening?” Louis whispered, still looking stunned.

Harry squeezed him close and kissed him again, holding his face between his palms, loving the way Louis just parted his lips open for Harry’s tongue, the way he pressed every possible part of his body into him while Harry ran his hands through Louis’ hair, down the back of his neck, stroked his thumb along his jaw. He pulled back to look into Louis’ eyes again and answer his question.

“We’re deciding to be happy, aren’t we?”

And Louis paused, his wide eyes locked onto Harry’s. “Yes,” he said then, at last. “Yes.” And he reached for Harry’s face and pulled him back into another kiss.

 

…………………..

 

2 months later….

Louis sat at the bar with Liam and Sophia while the lights dimmed after the warm-up act and a spotlight swerved over the stage to follow Nick loping to the microphone, waving at the cheering crowd. 

It was Harry who had requested Nick’s presence - for old time’s sake. The Dive was where everything started, he said, so it would be good karma to bring Nick back tonight. And Louis couldn’t say no when Harry batted his eyelashes so sweetly. 

There were bigger issues at stake tonight - Harry was showcasing his first songs from his soon-to-be released album. It was a big night for both _LiLo Management_ and _Triple Strings Records_ (and Louis!) even though they’d all agreed this was just an informal preview at a friendly venue.

“Hello! Hello! Hello people! Here we all are, back to the scene of the crime – looks like we got away with everything folks!”

The crowd roared, and Nick laughed before continuing with his patter.

“OK, and next – the artist with a special connection to this place and all of us.” Already the house went nuts, and Liam nudged into Louis, grinning excitedly. 

“Please welcome back to the stage, our very own, Mr Harry Styles.”

Harry walked onstage, waving and grinning his dimpled smile. Louis’ heart leapt in one thunderous thump at the sight of his boy back under the lights - exactly where he belonged.

“OK,” Nick took Harry’s arm and pulled him up the mic as the applause eventually calmed. “So Harry, we first met on this very stage, and little did we think back then that you would be here a year later, on the run from the tabloids, your reputation in tatters.”

“But rich now! We still like you!” Someone shouted up from the floor.

Harry rolled his eyes while the crowd laughed. 

“So, you’ve got some new songs to sing for us kiddo? Who’s excited?”

The crowd roared and at the back of the room, Niall came running out of nowhere to thump into Louis with a full body hug.

“I’m excited Louis!” Niall gasped as he jigged up and down with his arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. “I’m so fucking excited!”

Louis laughed and pushed him away, afraid he’d miss something on stage. God, Harry looked good up there, so relaxed and happy.

Nick was continuing, “But before you sing for us, I think we all need an update on those wishes of yours, don’t we? Did we help Harry find his true love, people?”

“Noooo! Harry!! I’m still waiting for you baby!” A voice called out just before the crowd cheered excitedly.

“OK then Nick, I can fill you in.” Harry grinned.

“I want to fill you in Harry!” The same voice shouted up.

“Whoa!” Nick held up his hands in the direction of the last shout, “can we keep it closer to the PG realm please, people. We have standards! For fuck’s sake!”

“Anyway,” Nick turned back to Harry, “your wishes - how’d that work out?”

“Completely unfulfilled, Nick!” Harry grinned happily. “And I’m so happy. If you asked me back then what I really wished for-”

“But I think I did, Harry,” Nick pouted.

“- then I’d probably have said - a recording contract, a hit single, a sexy blonde on my arm…”

“Didn’t you get all of those though, pet?” Nick chuckled, stroking Harry’s arm fondly. “He’s forgotten already, folks.” Nick leaned towards the audience, one hand sideways over his face, “Must be all the drugs!” he mock whispered.

Harry ignored the laughter and kept speaking in his slow, considered way, “But deep down, what my heart was wishing for was something else - just to make some beautiful sounds, to sing some truths. My head took some time to catch up though. I didn’t know what to wish for back then. I’d certainly never have thought to wish for a scrappy, blue eyed boy to come and change my world. Didn’t know to wish for a person to bring magic and kindness to children who have a hard time, for someone cute and sexy and fierce, someone who isn’t afraid to tell me when I’m not my best self, someone who loves music as much as me and who knows the details of the European Working Time Directive. But that’s been the best thing really. Getting a wish granted that I never made. That’s been everything.”

The room fell into an unusual quietness.

“You ready to share those beautiful sounds now Harry?” Nick asked gently.

Harry nodded and said, “This is for my blue-eyed boy. This is for Louis.”

And behind him, a pianist slipped onto his stool and started a pounding melody. Harry began to sing,

_I pictured a rainbow. You held it in your hands._  
_I had flashes. But you saw the plan._  
_I wandered out in the world for years. While you just stayed in your room._  
_I saw the crescent._  
_You saw the whole of the moon._

Louis’ felt his face flame up and his eyes get stingingly hot. He managed to sit through one verse, trying to ignore the wide-mouthed grins of Niall on one side of him and Liam at the other.

His heart was pounding. Before the song even reached the chorus, he found himself on his feet and outside.

It had started raining. Perfect. He turned up the collar on his jacket and faced into the weather when he felt a hard fingers digging into his shoulder.

“What the fuck are you doing Louis?” Niall was there, and Louis had never seen him look properly angry in the whole year he had known him, but it was an unnerving sight.

He poked Louis with a hard jab, right into his ribs. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going Louis?” he asked, poking again. 

“Ouch!” Louis gasped, rubbing at the two spots Niall had targeted. He’d definitely have bruises there in the morning.

“Louis, you little shit! You’re taking off now? What the fuck, man? Get back in there or I’ll kick your arse.”

Niall poked him hard in he chest again.

“Ouch Niall!” Louis squealed, rubbing his chest where Niall thumped him. “God, that really hurt. And Harry always says you’re the cuddliest person he knows!”

“Yeah well he also always says you’re the bravest person he knows! So Harry says a lot of shit. Now what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, getting some air?” Louis replied.

Niall’s expression was pained, and he raised his hands again. Louis braced himself for another assault, but to his surprise, Niall wrapped him up in a warm hug. “Louis, do you or do you not love him? That’s all! That’s all you need to think about right now.”

Niall grabbed the back of Louis’ neck and drew him in tight. “Don’t be afraid to let him love you, Louis. Don’t be afraid.”

And Louis wrapped his arms around Niall and snuggled into his embrace. Harry was right. Niall was good at this.

“I’m not afraid, Niall.” He told him eventually. “I’m not afraid anymore. It’s OK.”

Niall squeezed him tightly once more before releasing him. “Really, Louis? Does Harry know that?”

“He’s about to, I hope.” Louis replied and gestured to the group of kids in wheelchairs and with parents and minders in tow who were lining up at the stage door. Zayn rounded up the rear of the group, winking over at Louis, a broad grin on his face.

 

“And finally, ladies and gentlemen,” Nick announced, “ a little surprise tribute to our guest of honour tonight from some friends of his. I know you’ll enjoy this. I hope you have your tissues ready.”  
Down on the floor, Harry turned, open mouthed, back towards the stage to see Louis shuffle up to the microphone.

“So eh,” Louis began awkwardly, “there’s a few of us who really need want to let Harry know how important he has become to us over the last year. This song is from all of his new friends at the Happy Heart Centre for Children with Disabilities. We’ve been practicing this a lot, so hope you like it, Harry.”

Louis raised a hand to shield his eyes from the stage lights. “Hope you’re there somewhere! Anyway, here goes, gang!”

He sat at the piano and pressed a few chords before starting to sing,  
_“Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket_  
_Never let it fade away.”_

The stagelights rose to illuminate the circle of children, who caught the refrain and sang along or shook their bells in their hands as Louis continued, his voice clear and strong over the clanging accompaniment,

_“For love may come and tap you on the shoulder, some starless night_  
_Just in case you feel you want to hold her_  
_You’ll have a pocketful of starlight.”_

By the time the gang had finished their last _“never let it fade away”_ , there wasn’t a dry eye in the house and Louis felt like he had just run a marathon. That was, without doubt, the scariest thing he’d done in his life. But now he was about to do something even more frightening. 

He stood from the piano and made his way to the front of the stage.

“Harry?” he called, into the dizzying glare of the stagelights, “you there?”

“He’s here, he’s here!” Niall’s voice rose from the blackness beyond, and then finally, Louis caught a glimpse of that startlingly beautiful face, peering up at him, eyes shining brightly with happy tears.

“Hi Harry,” Louis began, momentarily cursing whatever part of him that thought this was ever going to be a good idea, “um, so, tonight’s been special for lots of reasons.” He took a shaky breath. He could do this.

“And I guess, I didn’t want another second to go by without you knowing, for sure, how I feel about you. So, I just wanted to say, here, in front of many witnesses, that I … I love you.” 

Phew. Relief swamped Louis’ body like a drug. He’d managed it. The venue was probably quieter than it ever had been with this size crowd in place, but he didn’t care anymore.

“Yeah, I love you more than anything. You’re my world and I’m crazy about you, and I want to be happy with you, and … um… I think that’s it. I love you. The end. Forever, I mean. I love you forever.” 

Louis shuffled away from the microphone and raised his hand again over his eyebrows, searching for Harry among many faces staring up at him. He scrambled down from the stage eventually, unable to cope any longer with the scrutiny of all those strangers’ eyes and that weird silence that had descended. 

He edged his way through the crowd, aiming for the bar, because if he didn’t deserve a drink after that, then he never would, when he felt a familiar grip at his elbow and he turned to find Harry standing there, smiling through the tears spilling down his cheeks.

Louis laughed gently and drew him again, and their kiss was gentle and warm, glancing, gliding touches that brought flushes of heat to their cheeks. Louis reached his arms up around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him in tight, squeezing him as close as possible and he felt Harry’s smiling face press tightly up against the side of his.

“I love you too, Louis.” Harry breathed into his ear. “I think I always did, right from the start. Right from that first night.”

“Well, I did fall at your feet,” Louis laughed. And then he drew Harry even tighter. 

And suddenly Louis heard the voices of hundreds of people saying AW! and a huge cheer rang out, and hundreds of camera phones appeared, flashing at them.

“Wow.” Louis said, staring blankly at them.

“My boys!” And they were both suddenly enveloped by Zayn, Niall and Liam - bouncing circle of warm arms and slobbery kisses, and Louis thought this might be it, might be everything he hadn’t known to ever wish for.

“Maybe we should get used to this.” Harry whispered into his ear, before pulling him back into another kiss.

………..

 

All the while, outside, a fierce wind whipped through the streets and battered through gardens. A lone blackthorn bush swayed and shuddered in the dark, before finally yielding to the wind’s force and shaking loose the remaining strands of a silk scarf, tied around its branches many months ago.

And the Rag Tree firmly granted a wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this fic - despite its many flaws and overall silliness! I'm so happy to have actually finished a long piece of fiction for the first time ever - despite many, many attempts over the years! I've learned so much from just doing this, and I really, really appreciate anyone who took the time to give this a chance. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you.


End file.
